The Merry Wives of Windsor

Introduction

According to tradition, Queen Elizabeth I so enjoyed the character of Falstaff in Henry IV that she commissioned another play from Shakespeare, one that would portray the wayward knight in love. It is a light hearted farce which somehow managed to inspire a most serious opera: Verdi’s Falstaff. The late great Harold Bloom bemoans this ‘pseudo-Falstaff’ as a humiliating imposter merely masquerading as the great Sir John Falstaff. Furthermore he suggests that Shakespeare himself clearly wrote the play in haste in order to satisfy the royal edict and holds it in contempt, loathing both the play and himself for having yielded to its creation. Certainly Shakespeare was a very busy playwright in 1597, having just written and staged the highly regarded masterpiece, Henry IV, Part I, starring the astonishingly popular character of Falstaff, and was presently writing the sequel, Henry IV, Part II, again starring Sir John and Prince Hal/King Henry IV, when Queen Elizabeth intervened with her hurried royal request. And it was expected to be completed and performed in time for the ceremony honouring the newly elected knights on the occasion of the Feast of St George on 23 April at Windsor Castle. No doubt it appears a tad rushed and was reportedly completed in a fortnight. 

And yet The Merry Wives of Windsor has long been regarded as one of the finest and best constructed bourgeois farces in all of dramatic history. Its busy plot and well humoured gusto play out superbly well on stage and it remains one of the Bard’s most popular comedies in performance. As excruciating as it was for Harold Bloom to have to endure seeing the supreme wit of his beloved Sir John Falstaff being usurped into such a mindless laceration, this story of the lovable rogue getting his comeuppance at the hands of the women he hopes to take advantage of proves a comic formula of great aptitude and design. Merry Wives is undoubtably a very amusing play, made unfortunate by the royal insistence that the protagonist be the masterful Sir John Falstaff reimagined as a buffoon, bereft of all has famous wit and eloquence.

Falstaff is definitely the star of the play, as he brings chaos and an irrepressible optimism to an otherwise dull and bourgeois Windsor. The housewives he thinks he can seduce easily turn the tables on him, subjecting him to one humiliation after another. Most of the well known baudy characters from Henry IV’s Boar’s Head Tavern are back, featuring Falstaff’s partners in crime, Pistol, Nym and Bardolph and the landlady of the tavern, Mistress Quickly. Everyone conspires to humble and humiliate Sir John, as he was want to humble and humiliate everyone else, in Henry IV. Rendered witless by Shakespeare’s almighty pen, he is an easy target of the Merry Wives and their many supporters. But in the end, all is forgiven and good amusement is shared by all. There is a secondary plot involving Anne, the daughter of one of the wives, as she is courted by three men and only in the end manages to win the man she loves. 

Had Shakespeare not transformed his most intelligent character to date and one of fictions most immortal wits, who speaks some of the most vital prose in the English language, into a string of humiliating and buffoonish fat man jokes, then there would be no controversy and this accomplished farce would be appreciated merely for being precisely that by nearly everyone. Perhaps the challenge we face is in not comparing the Falstaff of Merry Wives to his earlier genius manifestation, and therein and we may suddenly find ourselves face to face with a devastatingly funny and fresh new play, the likes of which Shakespeare will never write again. After all, Queen Elizabeth loved the play she commissioned as well as both parts of Henry IV. If she could do it, why can’t we?

Act I

Scene I

Windsor. Before the Page’s house

Enter Justice Shallow, Slender and Sir Hugh Evans, a Welsh parson

Shallow: “Sir Hugh, persuade me not; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaff’s, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire.”

Slender: “Justice of the Peace and a gentleman born.”

Shallow: “Ay, cousin Slender.”

Evans: “If John Falstaff has committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and compromises between you.”

Shallow: “The council shall hear it. O, my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it.”

Evan: “There is Anne Page, who is daughter to Master George Page, and is pretty virginity.”

Slender: “Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair.”

Evans: “And seven hundred pounds of money and gold and silver, all hers when she is seventeen years old.”

Shallow: “I know the gentlewoman; she has good gifts.”

Evans: “Seven hundred pounds is goot gifts.”

Shallow: “Well, let us see honest Master Page.”

Evans: “Shall I tell you a lie? The knight, Sir John, is there.”

They knock

Page: “Who’s there?”

Evans: “Here is Got’s plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow; and young Master Slender.”

Page: “I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. I am glad to see you, good master Slender.”

Shallow: “Is Sir John Falstaff here?”

Page: “Sir, he is within.”

Shallow: “He has wronged me, Master Page.”

Page: “Sir, he does in some sort confess it.”

Shallow: “If it be confessed, it is not redressed. He has wronged me; indeed he has; believe me.”

Page: “Here comes Sir John.”

Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym and Pistol

Falstaff: “Now, Master Shallow, you’ll complain of me to the king?”

Shallow: “Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer and broke open my lodge.”

Falstaff: “But not kissed your keeper’s daughter. I will answer it straight: I have done all this. That is now answered. Slender, I broke your head; what matter have you against me?”

Slender: “Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; and against your rascals, Bardolph, Nym and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern, made me drunk and afterward picked my pocket.”

Bardolph: “Your Banbury cheese.”

Slender: “Ay, it is no matter.”

Falstaff: “Pistol, did you pick master Slender’s purse?”

Pistol: “Word of denial. Froth and scum, thou lies.”

Falstaff: “What say you, Bardolph?”

Bardolph: “Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five senses.”

Slender: “Tis no matter; I’ll never be drunk while I live again. If I be drunk, I’ll be drunk with those who have the fear of god, and not with drunken knaves.”

Evans: “That is a virtuous mind.”

Falstaff: “You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen; you hear it.”

Enter Mistress Anne Page with wine; Mistress Ford and Mistress Page following

Falstaff: “Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met; by your leave, good mistress.”

He kisses her

Page: “Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. Come, we have hot venison pasty for dinner; come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.”

Exit all but Shallow, Slender and Evans

Evans: “Give ear to his motions, Master Slender. The question is concerning your marriage.”

Shallow: “Ay.”

Evans: “To Mistress Anne Page.”

Slender: “Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands.”

Shallow: “Cousin Slender, can you love her?”

Slender: “I hope, sir.”

Shallow: “That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, marry her? Can you love the maid?”

Slender: “I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another. I hope upon familiarity will grow more contempt. But if you say ‘marry her’, I will marry her.”

Evans: “His meaning is good.”

Shallow: “Ay, I think my cousin meant well.”

Re-enter Anne Page

Shallow: “Here comes fair Mistress Anne. Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne!”

Anne: “The dinner is on the table; my father desires your company.”

Exit Shallow and Evans

Anne: “Will it please your worship to come in, sir?”

Slender: “No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well.”

Anne: “The dinner attends you, sir.”

Slender: “I am not hungry, I thank you, forsooth.”

Anne: “I may not go in without your worship; they will not sit till you come.”

Slender: “In faith, I’ll eat nothing; I thank you as much as though I did.”

Anne: “I pray you, sir, walk in.”

Slender: “I had rather walk here, I thank you. I cannot abide the smell of hot meat. Why do your dogs bark so? Be there bears in the town?”

Anne: I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of.”

Slender: “You are afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not?”

Anne: “Ay, indeed, sir.”

Slender: “Women, indeed, cannot abide them; they are very ill-favoured rough things.”

Re-enter Page

Page: “Come, gentle Master Slender, come; we stay for you.”

Slender: “I’ll eat nothing, I thank you, sir.”

Page: “You shall not choose, sir! Come, come.”

Slender: “Nay, pray you lead the way.”

Page: “Come on, sir.”

Slender; “Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first.”

Anne: “Not I, sir; pray you keep on.”

Slender: “Truly, I will not go first. I will not do you that wrong.”

Anne: “I pray you, sir.”

Slender: “I’d rather be unmannerly than troublesome.”

Summary and Analysis

In this opening scene we encounter many of the principle characters of the play. Falstaff, the star of Henry IV, Parts I and II, encounters Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, the ‘merry wives’ he will attempt to seduce and be thoroughly humbled and humiliated by. The husbands of these ladies are also presented here. They too will ensure the shame of the renowned knight. Then there is Anne Page and one of her suitors, Slender. These are the two main storylines of The Merry Wives of Windsor. This is a play very much about marriage. The elder Page and Ford couples will ensure the preservation of theirs and young Anne will endeavor to select the appropriate partner for her nuptuals.

Falstaff is at the Page house with his usual entourage. Shallow, a local justice, accuses Falstaff of beating his men, killing his deer, beating Slender and stealing his wallet. Falstaff and his men admit to everything except stealing the wallet. Evans, a churchman, apparently has made a proposal to Ann Page on behalf of Slender. Slender is good with that but says that even if there is no love between them to begin with, it might further decrese as they got to know one another. Hmmm.

Act I

Scene ii

Before Page’s house

Enter Evans and Simple, a servant to Slender

Evans: “Go your ways, and ask of Dr Caius’ house which is the way; and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his cook, or his washer and his wringer.’

Simple: “Well, sir.”

Evans: “Give her this letter, which is to desire and require her to solicit your master’s desires to Mistress Anne Page.”

Summary and Analysis

Evans gives a letter for Simple to deliver to Dr Caius’ house, requesting Mistress Quickley’s help in convincing Anne Page to marry Slender. As we will soon see, there are several suitors to Anne, including Dr Caius himself. 

Act I

Scene iii

The Garter Inn

Enter Falstaff, a host, Bardolph, Nym and Pistol

Falstaff: “My host of the Garter!”

Host: “What says my bully rook? Speak scholarly and wisely.”

Falstaff: “I must turn away some of my followers. I sit at ten pounds a week.”

Host: “Thou art an emperor – Caesar, Kaisar. I will entertain Bardolph.”

Falstaff: “Do so, my good host. Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade. Go; adieu.”

Bardolph: “It is a life that I have desired; I will thrive.” (exit)

Falstaff: “I am glad I am so acquited of this tinderbox: his thefts were too open. Which of you know Ford of this town?”

Pistol: “He is of substance good.”

Falstaff: “My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.”

Pistol: “Two yards and more.”

Falstaff: “No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford’s wife; I spy entertainment in her; she gives the leer of invitation.”

Pistol: “He has studied her well.”

Nym: “The anchor is deep.”

Falstaff: “Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her husband’s purse. I have written me here a letter to her; and here another to Page’s wife, who even now gave me good eyes too. I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me. Go, bear thou this letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford. We will thrive, lads, we will thrive.” (exit)

Pistol: “Let Lucifer take them.”

Nym: “Here, take these humorous letters; I will keep my reputation.”

Exit Falstaff

Nym: “I have operations in my head which be humours of revenge.”

Pistol: “Will thou revenge?”

Nym: “With both the humours, ay. I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.”

Pistol: “And I to Ford.”

Nym: “I will incense Page to deal with poison; for the revolt of mine is dangerous. That is my true humour.”

Pistol: “I second thee; troop on.”

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff lays open his plan to seduce the two merry wives, Mistresses Page and Ford. They are attractive and hold the purse-strings in their marriages, so he hopes to benefit greatly from these affairs. But when he asks Pistol and Nym to deliver the letters he has written to the women they refuse, choosing to behave respectfully and, in fact, plot revenge on Falstaff by revealing his plot to the husbands of the merry wives. There is much double dealing in this simple farce, as Pistol and Nym betray their dubious master. This is as light a work of pure entertainment as Shakespeare will ever pen.

Act I

Scene iv

Doctor Caius’s house

Enter Mistress Quickly, Simple and Doctor Caius’s servant, Rugby

Quickly: “John Rugby! I pray thee go see if you can see my master, Doctor Caius, coming. (exit Rugby) An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in house withal; his worst fault is that he is given to prayer; but let that pass. Peter Simple you say your name is?”

Simple: Ay, for fault of a better.”

Quickly: “And Slender is your master?”

Simple: “Ay, forsooth.”

Quickly: “Tell Master Evans I will do what I can for your master. Anne is a good girl.”

Re-enter Rugby

Rugby: “Here comes my master.”

Quickly: “Run in here, good young man; go into this closet. (shuts Simple in the closet) He will not stay long.” (singing)

Enter Doctor Caius

Caius: “Vat is it you sing? Go and fetch me in my closet a box, a green box.”

Quickly: “Is it this, sir?”

Caius: “Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the varld leave behind.”

Quickly: “Ay, me, he’ll find the young man there, and be mad!”

Caius: “O diable! Vat is in my closet? Villainy! (pulling Simple out) Rugby, my rapier!”

Quickly: “Good master, be content. The young man is an honest man.”

Caius: “What shall da honest man do in my closet. Dere is no honest man dat shall come to my closet.”

Quickly: “Hear the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Parson Evans.”

Caius: “Peace a your tongue. Speak a your tale.”

Simple: “To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master, in the way of marriage.”

Quickly: “This is all, indeed. (aside to Simple) I am glad he is so quiet. But notwithstanding, man, I’ll do your master what good I can. But not withstanding – my master himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page.”

Caius: “You jack’nape, give-a this letter to Sir Evans; I will cut his troat in da park; and I will teach a scurvy priest to meddle. You may be gone.” (exit Simple)

Quickly: “Alas, he speaks but for his friend.”

Caius: “Did not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? By god, I will kill da priest! I will myself have Anne Page.”

Quickly: “Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well.”

Exit Caius and Rugby

Quickly: “You shall have – a fools head of your own. No, I know Anne’s mind; never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne’s mind than I do.”

Enter Fenton

Fenton: “How now, good woman, how does thou?”

Quickly: “The better that it pleases your good worship to ask.”

Fenton: “What news? How does pretty Mistress Anne?”

Quickly: “In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle; and one who is your friend.”

Fenton: “Shall I not lose my suit?”

Quickly: “Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I’ll be sworn she loves you.”

Fenton: “Well, I shall see her today. Hold, there’s money for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou sees her before me, commend me. Well, farewell; I am in great haste now.”

Quickly: “Farewell to your worship. (exit Fenton) Truly, an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not.”

Summary and Analysis

This scene is all about the various men courting Anne Page. We already know that Slender has hopes of marrying Anne, and now we can add Doctor Caius and Fenton. Mistress Quickly is right in the middle of the entire ordeal, and she claims Mistress Anne loves none of them, even though they all think she is advocating for them. Act I ends with both plot lines signifcantly advanced. We know that Falstaff plans to attempt the seduction of the Merry Wives, even though both women and his very own minions have plotted against him and we see that Anne has at least three suitors, none of whom she seems the least bit interested in, at least according to Mistress Quickly. 

Act II

Scene i

Before Page’s house

Enter Mistress Page, with a letter

Mrs Page: “What! I have escaped love letters in the holiday time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let me see.”

(reads)

‘Ask me no reason why I love you. You are not young, and no more am I. You are merry and so am I; ha! ha! You love sack and so do I. Let it suffice thee, Mistress page – at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice – that I love thee. Pity me, but I say, love me. Thine own true knight, by day or night, or any kind of light, with all his might, for thee to fight, John Falstaff.’

“What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world! One who is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour has this Flemish drunkard picked, that he dares in this manner assay me? Why, he has not been twice in my company! What should I say to him? Heaven forgive me! Why, I’ll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on him? For revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of pudding.”

Enter Mistress Ford

Mrs Ford: “Mistress Page, trust me, I was going to your house.”

Mrs Page: “And trust me, I was coming to you.”

Mrs Ford: “O MIstress Page, give me some counsel.”

Mrs Page: “What’s the matter, woman? What is it?”

Mrs Ford: “If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment, I could be knighted.”

Mrs Page: “What? Thou liest. Sir Alice Ford!”

Mrs Ford: “Here, read, read; percieve how I might be knighted. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tons of oil in his belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust has melted him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like?”

Mrs Page: “Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs. To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here’s the twin brother of thy letter. I warrant he has a thousand of these lettrs, written with blank spaces for different names.”

Mrs Ford: “Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very words. What does he think of us?”

Mrs Page: “Let’s be revenged on him; let’s appoint him a meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay.”

Mrs Ford: “I will consent to act any villainy against him that may not sully our honesty. O that my husband saw this letter! It would give eternal food to his jealousy.”

Mrs Page: “Why, look where he comes; and my good man too; he’s as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.”

Mrs Ford: “You are the happier woman.”

Mrs Page: “Let’s consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither.”

They exit

Enter Ford with Pistol and Page with Nym

Ford: “Well, I hope it be not so.”

Pistol: “Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs. Sir John affects thy wife.”

Ford: “Why, sir, my wife is not young.”

Pistol: “He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, both young and old, Ford.”

Ford: “Love my wife!”

Pistol: “With liver burning hot. Prevent. O odious is the name!”

Ford: “What name, sir?”

Pistol: “The horn, I say. Farewell. Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night.”

Exit Pistol

Ford: (Aside) “I will be patient. I will find out this.”

Nym: (to Page) “And this is true. He has wronged me in some humours. He loves your wife; there’s the short and the long of it. Tis true. My name in Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife.”

Exit Nym

Ford: “I will seek out Falstaff.”

Page: “I never heard of such a drawling, affecting rogue.”

Enter Mrs Page and Mrs Ford

Mrs Ford: “How now, sweet Frank, why art thou melancholy?”

Ford: “I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home; go.”

Mrs Ford: “Faith thou has some crochets in thy head now. Will you go, Mistress Page?”

Enter Mistress Quickly

Mrs Page: (aside to Mrs Ford) “Look who comes yonder; she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.”

Mrs Ford: (aside to Mrs Page) “Trust me, I thought on her; she’ll fit it.”

Mrs Page: “You have come to see my daughter, Anne?”

Quickly: “Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?”

Mrs Page: “Go in with us and see; we have an hour’s talk with you.”

Exit Mrs Page, Mrs Ford and Mrs Quickly

Ford: “You heard what this knave told me, did you not?”

Page: “Yes, and you heard what the other told me?”

Fprd: “Do you think there is truth in them?”

Page: “Hang em, slaves! These who accuse him in his intent toward our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now they be out of service. If he should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and when he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.”

Ford: “I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loathe to turn them together. A man may be too confident. I cannot be thus satisfied.”

Enter Host

Page: “How now, my host!”

Host: “How now, bully rook!”

Enter Shallow

Shallow: “Good even and twenty, good Master Page! Will you go with us? We have sport in hand.”

Host: “Tell him.”

Shallow: “Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor.”

Ford: “Good my host of the Garter, a word with you.”

Host: “What say thou, my bully rook?”

They go aside

Shallow: (to Page) “Will you go with us to behold it?”

They converse apart

Host: “Has thou no suit against my knight?”

Ford: “None, I protest; but I’ll give you a bottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook – only for a jest.”

Host: “And thy name shall be Brook.”

Page: “I have heard that the Frenchman has good skill in his rapier.”

Exit all but Ford

Ford: “Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife’s frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page’s house, and what they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into it, and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, tis labour well bestowed.”

Summary and Analysis

Mistress Page reads her letter from Falstaff and is astonished that the fat old knight would be so bold. Then Mistress Ford arrives with the identical letter. The two women figure he writes this same letter to every woman and they begin to plot their revenge on Falstaff. They decide to lead him on in order to humiliate him. Pistol and Nym have turned against Falstaff for his many wrongs against them. They claim they want to go straight and confess Falstaff’s intentions to both Mr Page and Mr Ford. Page trusts his wife to merely give Falstff a verbal lashing but Ford fears what might happen if he does not intervene, so he assumes a false name and asks the host to grant him access to Falstaff. The Merry Wives decide to use Mistress Quickly to relay their messages to Falstaff. The set up is nearly complete and the fat knight has no idea what he is in for. As an aside, Shallow invites everyone to come watch the duel arranged between Sir Hugh and Doctor Caius. This is a play about marriage and Shakespeare explores just what it means to be a good wife and a good husband and to have a good marriage. Clearly Page trusts his wife more than Ford trusts his. The wives are both trustwothy indeed, as their only plan is to plot revenge upon Falstaff, who would otherwise seek to unravel both marriages with his sexual advances.

Act II

Scene ii

A room in the Garter Inn

Enter Falstaff and Pistol

Falstaff: “I will not lend thee a penny. Not a penny.”

Pistol: “Why, then the world’s my oyster. which I with sword will open.”

Falstaff: “Not a penny. I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows. At a word, hang no more about me. Go to your manner of pickt-hatch; go. You’ll not bear a letter for me, you rogue!”

Enter Robin

Robin: “Sir, here’s a woman who would speak with you.”

Falstaff: “Let her approach.”

Enter Mistress Quickly

Quickly: “Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two? 

Falstaff: “I’ll vouchsafe you the hearing.”

Quickly: “There is one Mistress Ford, sir.”

Falstaff: “Well, what of her?”

Quickly: “Why, sir, she’s a good creature and this is the short and long of it: you have brought her into such a canaries as tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet there have been knights and lords and gentlemen, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift in silk and gold that would have won any woman’s heart; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye wink from her.”

Falstaff: “But what says she to me?”

Quickly: “Marry, she has received your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to no notify that her husband will be absent from his house between ten and eleven.”

Falstaff: “Ten and eleven?”

Quickly: “And then you may come. Alas, the sweet woman leads an ill life with him! He’s a very jealous man.”

Falstaff: “Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her; I will not fail her.”

Quickly: “Why, you say well. But I have another messenger to your worship. Mrs Page has her hearty commendations to you too; and she bade me tell your worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she hopes there will come a time; surely I think you have charms.”

Falstaff: “Not I, I assure thee; setting the attractions of my good parts aside, I have no other charms. Fare thee well; commend me to them both. There’s my purse; I am yet thy debtor.” (Exit Quickly) ”This news distracts me.”

Enter Bardolph

Bardolph: “Sir John, there’s one Master Brook would fain speak with you and has sent your worship a morning’s draught of sack.”

Falstaff: “Brook is his name?”

Bardolph: “Ay, sir.”

Falstaff: “Call him in. Such Brooks are welcome to me, who overflow such liquor.”

Enter Ford, disguised as Brook

Ford: “Bless you, sir.”

Falstaff: “And you, sir. Would you speak with me? What is your will?”

Ford: “Sir, I am a gentleman; my name is Brook.”

Falstaff: “Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance of you.”

Ford: “Truth, I have a bag of money here that troubles me; if you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage.”

Falstaff: “Master Brook; I shall be glad to be your servant.”

Ford: “There is a gentlewoman in this town and her husband’s name is Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to you, bestowed much upon her, followed her with a doting observance; engrossed opportunities to meet her; briefly, I have pursued her as love has pursued me. But whatsoever I have merited, I have received none.”

Falstaff: “Have you importuned her to such a purpose?”

Ford: “Never.”

Falstaff: “Of what quality was your love, then?”

Ford: “Like a fair hose built on another man’s ground.”

Falstaff: “To what purpose have you unfolded this to me?”

Ford: “Now, Sir John, here is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your place and person, generally allowed for your many war-like, court-like and learned preparations.”

Falstaff: “Oh, sir!”

Ford: “Believe it, for you know it. there is money; spend it, spend it; spend more; spend all I have; only lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford’s wife; use your art of wooing; win her to consent to you; if any man may, you may as soon as any.”

Falstaff: “Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection, that I should woo what you would enjoy? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously.”

Ford: “O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on the excellence of her honour that the folly of my soul dares not present itself. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand, my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are too too strongly embattled against me. What say you to it, Sir John?”

Falstaff: “Master Brook, I will first make bold with your money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford’s wife.”

Ford: “Oh, good sir!”

Falstaff: “I say you shall. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own appointment; even as you came into me her go-between parted from me; I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous, rascally knave, her husband, will be forth.”

Ford: “I am blessed in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, sir?”

Falstaff: “Hang him, poor cuckholdly knave! They say the jealous knave has masses of money; for the which his wife seems to me well favoured. I will use her as the key to the cuckholdly rogue’s coffer.”

Ford: “I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him if you saw him.”

Falstaff: “Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; it shall hang like a meteor over the cuckhold’s horns. Master Brook, thou shall know I will predominate over. the peasant, and thou shall lie with his wife. Ford’s a knave and I will aggravate his style. Come to me soon as night.”

Exit Falstaff

Ford: “What a damn’d Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is ready to crack with impatience. My wife has sent for him; the hour is fixed; the match is made. Would any man have thought this? See the hell of having a false woman! My bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawed at; and I stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him who does me this wrong. But cuckhold! Cuckhold! The devil himself has not such a name. Page is an ass; he will trust his wife; he will not be jealous; I would rather trust Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, than my wife with herself. Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises. God be praised for my jealousy! Eleven o’clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff and laugh at Page. I will about it; better three hours too soon than a minute too late. Fie, fie fie! Cuckhold! Cuckhold! Cuckhold!”

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff has a falling out with Pistol and Nym, which isolates Sir John, as they partake in the plot to humiliate him. Mistress Quickly is working for Mistresses Ford and Page and convinces Falstaff that Mrs Ford is flattered by the letter she has received from Falstaff and wishes that he come to her house between ten and eleven, when her husband will be away. She also tells him that Mrs Page is likewise smitten by him and is merely waiting for a time when her husband is also away, so he can come to her house as well.  Falstaff falls for this complicity and the plot is hatched. To make matters worse, Bardolph tells Sir John that a certain Master Brook wants to meet with him. Mr Ford is disguised as Master Brook and further entraps Sir John by claiming that he will pay Falstaff very well to seduce Mistress Ford for him, so as to loosen her up for Master Brook. Sir John agrees, all the while slandering Mr Ford, not realizing that he is speaking directly to him all the while. Ford is furious and vows revenge on Falstaff. Pistol, Nym, Mistress Quickly, Bardolph, the Merry Wives and their husbands have all plotted against Falstaff, who is about to walk into the trap.

Act II

Scene iii

A field near Windsor

Enter Caius and Rugby

Caius: “Jack Rugby! Vat is de clock, Jack?”

Rugby: “Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet.”

Caius: “By gar, he has save his soul dat he is no come; by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.”

Rugby: “He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him if he came. Forebear, here’s company.”

Enter the Host, Shallow, Slender and Page.

Host: “Bless thee, bully doctor!”

Shallow: “Save you, Master Doctor Caius!”

Page: “Now, good Master Doctor!”

Caius: “Vat be all you, one, two three, four, come for?”

Host: “To see thee fight. Is he dead, my hert of elder? Ha, is he dead, bully stale? Is he dead?”

Caius: “By gar, he is de coward jack priest of de vorld; he is not show his face.”

Shallow: “He is the wiser man, Master Doctor: he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies. Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. You must go with me.”

Host: “A word, Monseur Mockwater.”

Caius: “Mock-vater! Vat is dat?”

Host: “Mockwater, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.”

Caius: “By gar, then I have as much mockwater as de Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest! By gar, me vill cut his ears.”

Host: “He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.”

Caius: “Clapper-de-claw! Vat is dat?”

Host: “That is, he will make thee amends.”

Cais: “By gar, me vill have it.”

Host: “And I will provoke him to it.”

Caius: “Me tank you for dat.”

Host: “Master Guest, Master Page and Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.”

Pafe: “Sir Hugh is there, is he?”

Host: “He is there and I will bring the Doctor about by the fields.”

Shallow: “We will do it.”

Exit Page, Shallow and Slender

Caius: “By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.”

Host: “Let him die. Go about the fields with me through Frogmore; I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is and thou shall woo her.”

Caius: “By gar, my tank you vor dat; by gar, I love you.”

Host: “For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page.”

Caius: “By gar, tis good; vell said.”

Summary and Analysis

Doctor Caius has been waiting in a field for Evans to arrive for their duel. Instead Page, Slender, Shallow and the Host arrive although Hugh Evans is nowhere to be seen. The Host keeps insulting Doctor Caius with English slang that Caius the Frenchman does not know. The Host assures him that his insults are actually complimentary and they go off together to seek out Anne Page, for whom they are actually rivals. 

Act III

Scene i

A field near Frogmore

Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple

Evans: “I pray you now, friend Simple, which way have you looked for Master Caius?”

Simple: “Marry, sir, every which way.”

Evans: “Bless my soul, how full of cholers I am, and trembling of mind! Mercy on me! I have a great disposition to cry.”

Enter Page, Shallow and Slender

Slender: (aside) “Ah, sweet Anne Page.”

Page: “Save you, good Sir Hugh.”

Evans: “Bless you, all of you.”

Page: “We are come to you to do a good office, Master Parson.”

Evans: “Very Well; what is it?”

Page: “Yonder is a most reverend gentleman. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician.”

Evans: “I had as well you would tell me of a mess of porridge.”

Page: Why?”

Evans: “He is as cowardly a knave as you would desire to be acquainted with.”

Slender: (aside) “O, sweet Anne Page.”

Shallow: “Here comes Dr Caius.”

Enter Host, Caius and Rugby

Host: “Disarm them and let them question; let then keep their limbs whole and hack our English.”

Caius: “Vill you not meet-a-me?”

Evans: “In good time.”

Caius: “You are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.”

Evans: “Pray you, let us not be laughing stocks to other men’s humours; I desire you in friendship.”

Caius: “Jack Rugby! Have I not stayed for him to kill him? Have I not, at de place I did appoint?

Evans: “As I am a Christian soul, this is the place appointed.”

Host: “Peace, I say! Shall I lose my doctor? No; he gives me the potions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me the proverbs. I have deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places. Come, lay your swords and follow me, lads of peace.”

Slender: (aside) “O sweet Anne Page.”

Exit all but Caius and Evans

Evans: “This is well. I desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together to be revenged on this scurvy companion, the host of the Garter.”

Caius: “By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.”

Evans: “Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow.”

Summary and Analysis

Simple leads Evans to find the field where Dr Caius will be but they seem hopelessly lost and Evans has no stomach for dueling with Caius. Once they encounter Caius the Host ensures there will be no duel, as he does not want to lose either his doctor or his priest. He admits that he has led them to the wrong place. Caius and Evans decide to team up against the Host, who has deceived them about the location and about meeting Anne Page. Meanwhile Slender wanders about sighing the name of Anne Page. Fenton, Caius, Slender and the Host are all hopeful of wooing Anne Page in this secondary plot. English audiences would have enjoyed the banter between the French Doctor Cais and the Welsh Parson and their butchering of the English language. As the host declares, ‘let them keep their limbs whole and hack our English.’

Act III

Scene ii

A street in Windsor

Enter Ford

Ford: “Has Page any brains? Has he any eyes? Has he any thinking? Our revolted wives share damnation together. (clock strikes) The clock gives me my cue; there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather praised for this than mocked; for it is as positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there. I will go.”

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh Evans and Caius.

Ford: “Trust me, I have good cheer at home and I pray you all go with me.”

Shallow: “I must excuse myself, Master Ford.”

Slender: “And so must I, sir; we have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more money than I’ll speak of.”

Shallow: “We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my cousin, Slender.”

Slender: “I hope I have your good will, father Page.”

Page: “You have, Master Slender; I stand wholly for you.”

Host: “What say you to young Master Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he smells April and May; he will carry it.”

Page: “Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is of no having: he kept company with the wild Prince and Poins. My consent goes not that way.”

Ford: “I beseech you, heartily, some of you go home with me to dinner: besides your cheer, you shall have sport; I will show you a monster. Master doctor, you shall go, Master Page; and you, Sir Hugh.”

Summary and Analysis

Ford believes that Page is foolish to trust his wife with Falstaff. The clock strikes 10 and Ford prepares to catch Falstaff with his wife and Page, Evans and Caius join him. The trap is set and we are about to see Falstaff humbled and humiliated.

Act III

Scene iii

Ford’s house

Enter Mrs Ford and Mrs Page

Mrs Page: “Quickly! Where is the laundry basket, the buck-basket?

Enter servants with a laundry basket

Mrs Ford: “Here, set it down. John and Robert, be ready here, and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and take this basket upon your shoulders. That done, trudge with it in all haste and empty it into the muddy ditch by the Thames. Be gone, and come when you are called.”

Exit servants

Enter Robin

Mrs Ford: “How now, what news with you?”

Robin: “My master, Sir John, has come in at your back door and requests your company.”

Mrs Page: “Thou art a good boy. I’ll go hide.”

Mrs Ford: “Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone.”

Exit Robin and Mrs Page

Falstaff: “Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? O, this blessed hour.”

Mrs Ford: “O sweet Sir John.”

Falstaff: “Mistress Ford, I cannot prate. Now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy husband were dead; I would make thee my lady.”

Mrs Ford: “I your lady, Sir John? I should be a pitiful lady.”

Falstaff: “Let the court of France show me such another. What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee there’s something extraordinary in thee. I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserves it.”

Mrs Ford: “Do not betray me, sir; I fear you love Mistress Page.”

Falstaff: “Thou might as well say I love to walk by the Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln.”

Mrs Ford: “Well heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it.”

Falstaff: “Keep in that mind; I’ll deserve it.”

Robin: (within) “Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! Here’s Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently.”

Falstaff: “She shall not see me; I will ensconce me behind the arras.”

Mrs Ford: “Pray you, do so; she is a very tattling woman.”

Falstaff hides himself

Enter Mrs Page

Mrs Page: “O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You’re shamed, you are overthrown, you are undone for ever.”

Mrs Ford: “What’s the matter, good Mistress Page, what’s the matter?”

Mrs Page: “Your husband’s coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman who he says in here now in the house, by your consent, to take ill advantage of his absence. You are undone.”

Mrs Ford: “Tis not so, I hope.”

Mrs Page: “Pray heaven it be not so; but tis most certain your husband is coming, with half of Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why, I am glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey him out. Call all your senses to you; defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever.”

Mrs Ford: “What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear friend; and I fear not my own shame so much as his peril. I had rather than a thousand pounds he were out of the house.”

Mrs Page: “For shame! Your husband’s here at hand; bethink you of some conveyance; O, how have you deceived me! Look, here is a basket; if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him. Send him by your two mean to the muddy ditch by the Thames.”

Mrs Ford: “He is too big to go in there. What shall I do?”

Falstaff: (coming forward) “Let me see it, O, let me see it! I’ll in; follow your friend’s counsel; I’ll in!”

Mrs Page: “What, Sir John Falstaff! (aside to Falstaff) Are these not your letters, knight?”

Falstaff: (aside to Mrs Page) ” I love thee and none but thee; help me away. Let me creep in here.”

Falstaff gets into the laundry basket and they cover him with foul linen

Mrs Page: “Call your men, Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight.”

Enter servants

Mrs Ford: “Go, take up these clothes here quicky; carry them to the laundress in Datchet Mead; quickly, come.”

Enter Ford, Page, Caius and Sir Hugh Evans

Ford: “Pray you come near. If I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me; then let me be your jest, as I deserve it. How now, whither bear you this?”

Servant: “To the laundress, forsooth.”

Mrs Ford: “Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.”

Ford: “Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! Ay, buck!”

Exit servants with the basket

Ford: “Gentlemen, here be my keys; ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out. I’ll warrant, we’ll unkennel the fox.”

Page: “Good Master Ford, be contented; you wrong yourself too much.”

Evans: “This is fery fantastical homours and jealousies.”

Caius: “By gar, tis no the fashion of France; it is not jealous in France.”

Page: “Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see the issue of his search.”

Exit Ford, Evans, Page and Caius

Mrs Page: “Is there not a double excellency in this?”

Mrs Ford: “I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John.”

Mrs Page: “What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket!”

Mrs Ford: “I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so throwing him in the water will do him a benefit.”

Mrs Page: “Hang him, dishonest rascal.”

Mrs Ford: “I think my husband has some special suspicion of Falstaff’s being here, for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy until now.”

Mrs Page: “I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine.”

Mrs Ford: “Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?”

Mrs Page: “We will do it; let him be sent for tomorrow at 8 o’clock.”

Enter Page, Ford, Caius and Evans

Mrs Ford: “Heaven made you better than your thoughts!”

Ford: “Amen.”

Mrs Page: “You do yourself mightily wrong, Master Ford.”

Ford: “Ay, ay; I must bear it.”

Page: “Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not ashamed? What devil suggested this imagination? I would not have your distemper for all the wealth of Windsor Castle.”

Ford: “Tis my fault, Master Page, and I suffer for it.”

Evans: “You suffer for a bad conscience. Your wife is as honest a woman among five thousand.”

Caius: “By gar, I see tis an honest woman.”

Ford: “Well, I promised you a dinner. Come; I pray you pardon me; I will hereafetr make known to you why I have done this. Come, wife, come, Mistress Page; pray heartily, pardon me.”

Page: “Let’s go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, we’ll mock him. I do invite you tomorrow morning to my house for breakfast.”

Summary and Analysis

Mistresses Ford and Page conspire and prepare for Falstaff’s arrival at Mrs Ford’s house. They have prepared a laundry basket which they plan to stuff him into, along with foul linens, as his only means of escaping Mr Ford when he returns home searching for the fat knight. Sure enough John Falstaff arrives, vowing his love and expressing his wish that her husband were dead. Just then Mistress Page arrives announcing in haste that Mrs Ford’s husband is arriving with half the officers in town in tow to search for Falstaff. The women suggest they stuff him into the laundry basket and cover him with soiled linens. He hastily agrees, whispering his love to Mrs Page before climbing in with the dirty laundry. Mrs Ford calls her two servants to carry the laundry basket down to the Thames just as Mr Ford arrives with his entourage. Ford intends to find Falstaff and orders the men to thoroughly search the house as the servants leave with the basket containing Sir John. Naturally, the men do not find anyone and the two women enjoy the trick they played on Falstaff and the jealous husband, Ford, who the group shame for not trusting his wife. The prank was a definite win-win for the merry wives, who have enjoyed the scene so thoroughly that they plot to entrap Falstaff again. This is the stuff of pure comedy, even though for many admirers of the great comic genius of Falstaff, remembered well for his wit and pathos from Henry IV, seeing the beloved knight humiliated in a basket of dirty laundry and dumped into the muddy Thames is a bit much. This is what Queen Elizabeth asked for, and apparently she was very well pleased.

Act III

Scene iv

Before Page’s house

Enter Fenton and Anne Page

Fenton: “I see I cannot get thy father’s love. He does object that my state being galled with my expenses, I seek to heal it only by his wealth. Besides this, other bars he lays before me: my riotous past, my wild societies; and he tells me tis a thing impossible I should love thee.”

Anne: “Maybe he tells you true.”

Fenton: “No! Albeit, I will confess thy father’s wealth was the first motive that I woo’d thee, Anne; yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value than stamps in gold, and tis the very riches of thyself that now I aim at.”

Anne: “Gentle Master Fenton, yet seek my father’s love; still seek it, sir.”

They step aside

Enter Shallow, Slender and Mistress Quickly

Shallow: “Be not dismayed.”

Slender: “No, she shall not dismay me.”

Quickly: “Hark ye, Master Slender would speak a word with you.”

Anne: “I come to him. (aside) This is my father’s choice. O, what a world of vile ill-favoured faults looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!”

Quickly: “And how does good Master Fenton?”

Shallow: “Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.”

Slender: “Ay, that I do.”

Shallow: “He will maintain you like a gentlewoman.”

Slender: “Ay, I will come under the degree of a squire.”

Shallow: “He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds.”

Anne: “Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. Now Master Slender, what is your will?”

Slender: “My will! That’s a pretty jest indeed! I have never yet made my will. I am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise.”

Anne: “I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me?”

Slender: “Truly, for my own part I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my uncle have made motions; if it be my luck, then so; if not, happy man be his dole! They can tell you how things go better than I can. You may ask your father; here he comes.”

Enter Page and Mistress Page

Page: “Now, Master Slender! Love him, daughter Anne – Why, how now, why is Master Fenton here? You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house. I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of.”

Mrs Page: “Good Master Fenton, come not to my child.”

Page: “She is no match for you.”

Fenton: “Sir, will you hear me?”

Page: “No, good Master Fenton. You wrong me.”

Exit Page Page, Shallow and Slender

Quickly: “Speak to Mistress Page.”

Fenton: “Good Mistress Page: “Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter in such a righteous fashion as I do, I must advance the colours of my love, and not retire. Let me have your good will.”

Anne: “Good mother, do not marry me to yonder fool.”

Mrs Page: “I mean it not; I seek you a better husband.”

Quickly: “That’s my master, Master Doctor.”

Anne: “Alas, I had rather be set quick in the earth, and bowled to death with turnips.”

Mrs Page: “Come, Master Fenton, my daughter will I question how she loves you, and as I find her, so am I affected.”

Exit Mrs Page and Anne

Quickly: “This is my doing now: ‘Nay’, said I why will you cast away your child on a fool or a physician? Look on Master Fenton’. This is my doing.”

Fenton: “I thank thee; and I pray thee, give my sweet nan this ring. There’s for thy pains.”

Quickly: “Now heaven send thee good fortune!” (Exit Fenton) “A kind heart he has; a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my master had Mistress Anne; or I would Master Slender had her; or, in sooth, I wish Master Fenton had her. I will do what I can for all three, for so have I promised, and I’ll be as good as my word. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses.”

Summary and Analysis

Fenton confesses to Anne that her father has rejected him as a suitor, preferring the very simple Slender. She urges him to continue to try to win over her father. Clearly, Fenton is her personal choice for a marriage partner. When Slender arrives Shallow tends to do all the talking, but when Anne asks that Slender speak for himself all that he says is nonsensical, finally admitting that Page and Shallow have made all of the arrangements for him to marry her and saying that he’ll be just fine if it doesn’t work out. When Page arrives he insists that Fenton explain why is is still hanging around, since he will never marry his daughter. Mistress Quickly suggests to Fenton that he speak to Mrs Page, who insists that she will not force Anne to marry Slender, and although she prefers Dr Caius, she promises to speak to Anne about Fenton. Quickly seems to know everyone in Windsor and makes lots of tip money relaying secrets and running errand between various people. She is receiving favours from all three men interested in Anne, hoping not to have her duplicity exposed. Anne, for her part, clearly favours Fenton, although her father supports the imbecile Slender and her mother prefers Dr Caius, who is considerably older and barely speaks English.

Act III

Scene v

The Garter Inn

Enter Falstaff and Bardolph

Falstaff: “Bardolph, I say! Go fetch me a quart of sack. (Exit Bardolph) Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a butcher’s offal, and to be thrown into the Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, I’ll have my brains taken out and buttered, and give them to a dog for a new year’s gift. The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a blind bitch’s puppies, fifteen in the litter; and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking. I had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy and shallow – a death that I abhor; for the water swells a man, and what a thing should I have been when I had been swelled! I should have been a mountain of mummy.”

Enter Bardolph

Bardolph: “Here’s Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you.”

Falstaff: “Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames water; for my belly’s as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs. Call her in.”

Enter Mistress Quickly

Quickly: “Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress Ford.”

Falstaff: “Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was thrown into the ford; I have my belly full of ford.”

Quickly: “Alas the day, good heart, that was not her fault. She laments, sir, that it would yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning a birding; she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine. She’ll make you amends, I warrant you.”

Falstaff: “Well, I will visit her. Tell her so; and bid her think what a man is. Let her consider his frailty, and then judge of my merit.”

Quickly: “I will tell her. Peace be with you, sir.”

Exit Mistress Quickly

Falstaff: “I marvel I hear not of Master Brook. I like his money. O, here he comes.”

Enter Ford disguised as Mr Brook

Ford: “Bless you, sir.”

Falstaff: “Now, Master Brook, you come to know what has passed between me and Ford’s wife.”

Ford: “That, indeed, Sir John, is my business.”

Falstaff: “Master Brook, I will not lie to you: I was at her house the hour she appointed me. But her husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual larum of jealousy, comes in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, and, as it were, spoke the prologue to out comedy; and at his heels a rabble of his companions, provoked and instigated by his distemper and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife’s lover.”

Ford: “What, while you were there?

Falstaff: “While I was there.”

Ford: “And did he search for you, and could not find you?”

Falstaff: “You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, and, in her invention, they conveyed me into a laundry basket.”

Ford: “A laundry basket!”

Falstaff: “By the lord, a laundry basket. Rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, greasy socks, that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended a nostril.’

Ford: “And how long lay you there?”

Falstaff: “Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus crammed into the basket, a couple of Ford’s knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes upon their shoulders. They met their jealous master at the door, who asked them once or twice what they had in the basket. I quaked with fear lest the lunatic knave would have searched it; but fate, ordaining that he should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook – I suffered the pangs: first, and of three separate deaths: first, an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten bell-weather; next, to be compassed like a good bilbo in the circumference of a peck, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. It was a miracle to escape suffocation. And when I was more than half stewed in grease, to be thrown into the Thames, and cooled in the surge. Think of that, Master Brook.”

Ford: “In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all of this. My suit, then, is desperate; you’ll undertake her no more.”

Falstaff: “Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have been into the Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a birding, and I have recieved from her another embassy of meeting; twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook.”

Ford: “Tis past eight already, sir.”

Falstaff: “Is it? I will then address me to my appointment. Come to me at your convenient leisure and the conclusuion shall be crowned with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master Brook; you shall cuckold Ford.”

Exit Falstaff

Ford: “Hum! Ha! Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep? Master Ford, awake, awake. Well, I will now take the lecher; he is at my house. He cannot escape me; tis impossible he should. But, lest the devil who guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me – I’ll be horn mad.”

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff, soaking wet, explains to Bardolph how he had to drag himself out of the Thames after being dumped from Mrs Ford’s laundry basket, but then Mistress Quickly arrives with news that Mrs Ford hopes to see him again, as her husband will be out between 8-9 that evening. At first he is reluctant, having been through enough, but she convinces him that this time it will be worth it and he agrees. Ford arrives disguised as Master Brook and Falstaff explains to him that he had just begun wooing Mrs Ford when Mr Ford arrived with a crowd. He explains the whole laundry basket and Thames fiasco and Ford asks if Falstaff is done with Mrs Ford and Falstaff reveals that he is returning to her house between 8-9 this evening. Ford is certain he will catch Falstaff this time. Poor Falstaff has no clue that Master Brook is actually Mr Ford himself and that Quickly has set him up with Mrs Ford and Mrs Page’s conniving.

Act IV

Scene i

A street in Windsor

Enter Mrs Page and Mistress Quickly

Mrs Page: “Is Falstaff at Mr Ford’s already?”

Quickly: “Sure he is, or will be presently.; but truly he is very mad about being thrown into the water. Mrs Ford desires you to come suddenly.”

Summary and Analysis

Mrs Page and Mistress Quickly discuss Falstaff and then the scene becomes purely comical as Mrs Page and her son William encounter Sir Hugh Evans. She tells him that William does not seem to be learning much at school so Evans grills William about his lessons in English, but his Welsh accent mangles the language so badly it is no wonder little William is not learning much in the way of English. As Quickly listens to Evans she misinterprets practically everything as sexual innuendos and slang.

Act IV

Scene ii

Ford’s house

Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford

Falstaff: “Mistress Ford, your sorrow has eaten up my sufferance. But are you sure of your husband now?”

Mrs Ford: “He’s a-birding, sweet Sir John.”

Enter Mistress Page

Mrs Ford: “Step into my chamber, Sir John.”

Mrs Page: “How now, sweetheart, who’s at home besides yourself?”

Mrs Ford: “Why, none but my own people.”

Mrs Page: “Truly, I am glad you have nobody here.”

Mrs Ford: “Why?”

Mrs Page: “Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again. He rails against all married mankind and curses all Eve’s daughters, that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility and patience, to this his present distemper. I am glad the fat knight is not here.”

Mrs Ford: “Why, does he talk of him?”

Mrs Page: “Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests to my husband that he is here now, and has drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspicion. I am glad the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery.”

Mrs Ford: “How near is he, Mrs Page?”

Mrs Page: “Hard by, at street’s end; he will be here anon.”

Mrs Ford: “I am undone; the knight is here.”

Mrs Page: “Why then, you are utterly shamed, and he’s but a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him, away with him; better shame than murder.”

Mrs Ford: “Which way should he go? Shall I put him into the basket again?”

Enter Falstaff

Falstaff: “No, I’ll come no more in the basket. May I not go out?”

Mrs Page: “Alas, three of Master Ford’s brothers watch the door with pistols.”

Falstaff: “What shall I do? I’ll creep up into the chimney.”

Mrs Ford: “He will seek there, on my word. There is no hiding you in the house.”

Falstaff: “I’ll go out then.”

Mrs Page: “If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised.”

Mrs Ford: “How might we disguise him?”

Mrs Page: “I know not! There is no woman’s gown big enough for him.”

Falstaff: “Good hearts, devise something.”

Mrs Ford: “My maid’s aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has a gown above.”

Mrs Page: “On my word, it will serve him; she’s as big as he. Run up, Sir John.”

Mrs Ford: “Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mrs Page and I will look for some linen for your head.”

Mrs Page: “Quick, quick, put on the gown.”

Exit Falstaff

Mrs Ford: “But is my husband coming?”

Mrs Page: “Ay. Let’s go dress him like the witch of Brainford. Hang him! We cannot misuse him enough. Wives may be merry and yet honest too.”

Exit Mrs Page

Enter Mrs Ford with two servants

Mrs Ford: “Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders; your master is guard at the door; if he bid you set it down, obey him.”

Enter Ford, Page, Shallow, Caius and Sir Hugh Evans

Ford: “Set down the basket, villain! Somebody call my wife. Now shall the devil be shamed. I say, what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching.”

Enter Mrs Ford

Ford: “Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature I suspect without cause!”

Mrs Ford: “Heaven be my witness, you do, if you suspect me of any dishonesty.”

Ford: “Well said, brazen-face. Come forth, sirrah.”

Ford pulls clothes out of the basket

Mrs Ford: “Are you not ashamed? Let the clothes alone.”

Ford: “I shall find you anon. Empty the basket, I say.”

Mrs Ford: “Why, man, why?”

Ford: “Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is; my intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable. Pluck me out all the linen.”

Page: “There is no man.”

Ford: “Well, he’s not here I seek for?”

Page: “No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.”

Ford: “Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, let me forever be your table sport. Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.”

Mrs Ford: “Mistress Page! Come you and the old woman down.”

Ford: “Old woman? What old woman is that?”

Mrs Ford: “Why, its my maid’s aunt of Brainford.”

Ford: “A witch. Have I not forbid her in my house. She works by charms and spells. Come down, you witch, you hag, you.”

Mrs Ford: “Good gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.”

Enter Falstaff dressed in old woman’s clothes, with Mistress Page.

Mrs Page: “Come, mother Prat; give me your hand.”

Ford: ” I’ll prat her. (beating Falstaff) Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage. I’ll conjure you. I’ll fortune tell you.”

Exit Falstaff

Mrs Page: “Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the old woman.”

Ford: “Hang her, the witch!”

Evans: “I like not when a witch has a great beard.”

Ford: “Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you to see the issue of my jealousy.”

Exit all but Mrs Ford and Mrs Page

Mrs Page: “Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.”

Mrs Ford: “What think you? May we, with good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge?”

Mrs Page: “The spirit of wantonness is sure scar’d out of him. He will never, I think, attempt us again.”

Mrs Ford: “Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?”

Mrs Page: “Yes, by all means. But I would not have things cool just yet.

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff is happy to be at Mistress Ford’s house again but must hide when Mistress Page arrives. Mrs Page insists that Ford is mad with jealousy and rage and she is very relieved not to find the fat knight here in the Ford house, as Ford is approaching with a host of his friends to search for Falstaff. Mrs Ford then admits that Falstaff is here and the knight appears, clearly shaken. He says he will not climb into the laundry basket again and the women decide to dress him up as the maid of Mrs Ford’s aunt, a very large woman, whose clothes happen to be available. The problem is that Ford hates the old witch and will be furious to see her in his house. Once Ford arrives with his entourage, they first check the laundry basket. When there is nothing in it but dirty clothes it seems Ford is heedlessly jealous and paranoid. When Mrs Ford comes down with the old woman, Ford attacks the fat aunt, beating her relentlessly. Falstaff escapes but when Evans remarks that he likes not to see an old witch with a beard Ford takes off after Falstaff. The two wives seem happy with their revenge on Falstaff but prefer to torment him one last time. This entire scene plays as excellent slapstick.

Act IV

Scene iv

Ford’s house

Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Sir Hugh Evans

Page: “And did he send you both these letters at an instant?”

Mrs Page: “Within a quarter of an hour.”

Ford: “Pardon me, wife. Henceforth, do what thou will. I rather would suspect the sun with cold than thee with wantonness.”

Page: “Tis well, tis well; no more. But let our plots go forward. Let our wives yet once again appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, where we may take him and disgrace him for it.”

Ford: “There is no better way.”

Page: “How? To send him word they will meet him in the park at midnight? Fie, fie! He’ll never come.”

Evans: “You say he has been thrown into the river and has been grievously beaten; methinks there should be terrors in him, that he should not come; methinks his flesh is punished; he shall have no desires.”

Page: “So think I too.”

Mrs Ford: “Device but how you will use him when he comes, and let us two devise to bring him thither.”

Mrs Page: “There is an old tale goes that Herne the Hunter, sometimes a keeper here in Windsor Forest, does all the winter-time, at still midnight, walk around about an oak, with great ragged horns; and there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, and shakes a chain in a most hideous and dreadful manner.”

Mrs Ford: “Marry, this is our decice – that Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, diguised, like Herne, with huge horns on his head.”

Page: “Well, let it not be doubted that he will come, and in this shape. When you have brought him thither, what shall be done with him? What is your plot?”

Mrs Page: “Nan Page, my daughter, and my little son, and three or four more of their growth, we’ll dress like urchins and fairies, with rattles in their hands. Let them all encircle him about, and fairy-like, pinch the unclean knight; and ask him why in their so sacred paths he dares to tread in shape profane.”

Mrs Ford: “And till he tell the truth, let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, and burn him with their tapers.”

Mrs Page: “The truth being known, we’ll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, and mock him home to Windsor.”

Evans: “I will teach the children their behaviours.”

Ford: “That will be excellent.”

Mrs Page: “My Nan shall be the Queen of all the fairies. and in that time.”

Page: (aside) “And in that time will Master Slender steal my Nan away, and marry her at Eton.”

Evans: “Let us about it with admirable pleasures and fairy honest knaveries.”

Mrs Page: (aside) “I’ll to the doctor; he has my good will, and none but he, to marry with Nan Page. None but he shall have her, though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her.”

Summary and Analysis

The two wives have confessed to their husbands their plots against Falstaff, so Ford realizes that his wife is honorable and all is forgiven. Page actually suggests they all work together to humiliate the knight one last time. The plan they concoct is to have Falstaff disguised, this time, as Herne the Hunter, a mean old spirit who hangs around a particular oak tree and terrorizes children. They will then get a host of children to dress and fairies and pinch him and burn him with their tapers, all the while insisting he tell them why he is there at midnight. When he finally is tormented into admitting his dishonorable intentions, he can then be mocked by everyone in Windsor. At the end of the scene Page determines to have his daughter, Anne marry Master Slender, while his wife likewise plots to ensure that Dr Caius marry her. Mr Ford had been foolishly accusing his wife of infidelity with Falstaff, while both of Anne Page’s parents continue to plot over who will be her husband, regardless of what Anne herself thinks.

Act IV

Scene V

The Garter Inn

Enter Host and Simple

Host: “What would thou have, boor?”

Simple: “Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff from Master Slender.”

Host: “There’s his chamber. Go knock and call; he’ll speak unto thee.”

Simple: “There’s an old fat woman, gone up into his chamber.”

Host: “Ha! A fat woman? The knight may be robbed. I’ll call him. ‘Bully knight! Bully Sir John! Are you there? It is thy host. Let thy fat woman descend.”

Enter Falstaff

Falstaff: “There was, my host, an old fat woman even now with me, but she’s gone.”

Simple: “Pray you, sir, was it not the old woman of Brainford?”

Falstaff: “Ay, marry it was.”

Enter Mistress Quickly

Falstaff: “Whence come you?”

Quickly: “From Mistresses Ford and Page.”

Falstaff: “The devil and his dam take them both. I have suffered more for their sakes than the villainous inconstancy of man’s disposition is able to bear.”

Quickly: “And have not they suffered? Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue.”

Falstaff: “I was beaten myself into all the clours of the rainbow; and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford. But that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, delivered me the knave constable had set me in the stocks for a witch.”

Quickly: “Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber; you shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your content. Here is a letter to bring you together.”

Falstaff: “Come up into my chamber.”

Summary and Analysis

Back at his chamber, Falstaff is changing from his disguise as the old woman when Mistress Quickly arrives with news from the Merry Wives. Falstaff claims he is done with them, as he was beaten into all the colours of the rainbow, while escaping Ford’s house as the old woman. When Quickly tells him that Mrs Ford too was beaten and has sent Quickly with a letter for Sir John he is once again curious and interested. As hard as it is to imagine, Sir John remains obsessed with having an affair with the Merry Wives. Thus will he be led astray and humiliated yet again.

Act IV

Scene vi

The Garter Inn

Enter Fenton and Host

Host: “Master Fenton, speak not to me.”

Fenton: “Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, as I am a gentleman.”

Host: “I will hear you, Master Fenton.”

Fenton: “From time to time I have acquainted you with the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page, who, mutually, has answered my affection, even to my wish. Tonight at Herne’s oak, twixt twelve and one, must my sweet Anne present as the Ferry Queen, in which disguise her father has commanded her to slip away with Slender, and with him to immediately marry at Eton. To this she has consented. Her mother, even strong against that match, and firm for Doctor Caius, has appointed that he shall likewise shuffle her away and straight marry her. To this, her mother’s plot, she is seemingly obedient likewise.”

Host: “Which means she to deceive, father or mother?”

Fenton: “Both, my good host, to go along with me. And here it rests – that you’ll procur the vicar to stay for me at church twixt twelve and one, and in the lawful name of marrying, to give our hearts lawful ceremony.”

Host: “I’ll to the vicar. You shall not lack a priest.”

Fenton: “So shall I evermore be bound to you.”

Summary and Analysis

Despite the objections of her parents, Fenton makes it very clear in this scene that Anne and Fenton plan to marry. Three different men will arrive at Herne’s tree at midnight with the expectation of marrying Anne Page.

Act V

Scene i

The Garter Inn

Enter Falstaff and Mistress Quickly

Falstaff: “Prithee, no more prattling; go. This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go.”

Quickly: “I’ll provide you a chain, and I’ll do what I can to get you a pair of horns.”

Falstaff: “Away, I say; time wears.”

Enter Ford, disguised

Falstaff: “How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the matter will be known tonight or never. Be you in the park about midnight, at Herne’s Oak, and you shall see wonders.”

Ford: “Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed?”

Falstaff: “I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man; but I came from her, Master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave, Ford, her husband, has the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell you – he beat me grievously in the shape of a woman. I am in haste; go along with me; I’ll tell you all, Master Brook. I knew not was it was to be beaten till lately. Follow me. I’ll tell you strange things of this knave Ford, on whom tonight I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange things in hand, Master Brook! Follow.”

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff tells Quickly that he will keep his third appointment with Ford, but only hopes it goes better than the first two encounters. Ford, disguised as Brook, enters and Falstaff tells him that everything will be decided at the park at midnight. He also admits that on the previous day he was forced to be disguised as a woman and was beaten by Ford and wants revenge. Little does he know that he is actually addressing Ford. Things go from bad to worse for Falstaff and we have no reason to believe that this will not continue in the final act in the park at midnight, as the wives, Ford and Quickly, are aligned against him once again. It is a comedy, so we can be certain he will survive and he is so beloved a character, we might even expect him to be reconciled to his detractors.

Act V

Scene ii

Windsor Park

Enter Page, Shallow and Slender

Page: “Come, come; we’ll couch in the castle ditch till we see our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my daughter.”

Slender: “Ay, forsooth. I come to her in white and by that we know one another.”

Page: “The night is dark. Heaven prosper our sport. No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let’s away!”

Summary and Analysis

The wheels are in motion for the final humiliation of Sir John.

Act V

Scene iii

A street leading to the park

Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Dr Caius

Mrs Page: “Master Doctor, my daughter is in green; when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly.”

Caius: “I know vat I have to do, adieu.” (exit Caius)

Mrs Page: “My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor’s marrying my daughter; but tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.”

Mrs Ford: “Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies?”

Mrs Page: “They are all couched in a pit by Herne’s Oak with obscured lights, which at the very instant of our meeting with Falstaff, will at once display to the night.”

Mrs Ford: “That cannot choose but amaze him.”

Mrs Page: “If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.”

Mrs Ford: “We’ll betray him finely.”

Mrs Page: “Against such lewdsters and their lechery, those who betray them do no treachery.

Mrs Ford: “The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak!

Summary and Analysis

Both Mr. and Mrs Page think they have their preferred suitors all lined up to marry their daughter, Anne. The two wives justify their torment of Falstaff because of his status as a lewdster and a lecher. They have been on to him from the very start.

Act V

Scene iv

Windsor Park

Enter Sir Hugh Evans like a satyr, with others as fairies

Evans: “Fairies come, and remember your parts. Be bold, I pray you. Come, come.”

Summary and Analysis

The final preparations are being set to ensnarl Sir John a third and final time. The stage is set.

Act V

Scene v

Another part of the park

Enter Falsaff disguised as Herne

Falstaff: “The Windsor bell has struck twelve. Now the hot blooded gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou was a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man; in some other a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Lida. O omnipotent love! For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, in the forest. Who comes here? My doe?”

Enter Mrs Ford and Mrs Page

Mrs Ford: “Sir John, Art thou there, my deer, my male deer?”

Falstaff: “My doe. Let the sky thunder to the tune of Greensleeves; let there come a tempest of provocation. I will shelter me here.” (embracing her)

Mrs Ford: “Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart.”

Falstaff: “My horns I bequeath your husbands. Speak I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution.”

A noise

Mrs Page: “Alas! What noise?”

Mrs Ford: “Heaven forgive our sins.”

Falstaff: “What should this be?”

They run off

Falstaff: “I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that’s in me should set hell on fire.

Enter Sir Hugh Evans, like a satyr, Anne Page as a fairy and others as Fairy Queen and fairies and hobgoblins, all with tapers.

Fairy Queen: “Fairies, you moonshine revellers, you orphan heirs of fixed identity, attend your office.”

Falstaff: “They are fairies.”

Fairy Queen: “Meadow fairies, look you sing. Away, disperse; but till tis one o’clock, our dance of custom round about the oak of Herne the Hunter let us not forget.”

Evans: “But, stay. I smell a man of middle earth.”

Falstaff: “Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me into a piece of cheese.”

Fairy Queen: “With trial-fire touch me his finger-end; if he be chaste, the flame will back descend, and turn him to no pain; but if he start, it is the flesh of a corrupted heart.”

Evans: “Will this wood take fire?”

They put the tapers to his fingers, and he starts

Falstaff: “Oh, oh, oh!”

Fairy Queen: “Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; and, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.

The Song

Fie on sinful fantasy! Fie on lust and luxury! Lust is but a bloody fire, kindled with unchaste desire. Pinch him fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villainy; Pinch him and burn him and turn him about, till candles and star-light and moonshine be out.

During this song they pinch Falstaff. Caius comes one way and takes away a fairy in green; Slender comes another way, and takes away a fairy in white; and Fenton steals away Anne Page. All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck’s head and rises.

Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Sir Hugh Evans

Mrs Page: “I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher. Now, good Sir John, how do you like Windsor wives? See you these, husbands?”

Ford: “Now, sir, who’s a cuckold now? Master Brook, Falstaff’s a knave; here are his horns, and Master Brook, he has enjoyed nothing of Ford’s but his buck-basket, his cudgel and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Master Brook.”

Mrs Ford: “Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again; but I will always count you my deer.”

Falstaff: “I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.”

Ford: “Ay, and an Ox too.”

Falstaff: “And these are not fairies? I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the guiltiness of my mind drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief.”

Evans: “Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.”

Ford: “Well said, fairy Hugh.”

Evans: “And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.”

Ford: “I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English.”

Falstaff: “Well, I am dejected. Ignorance itself is a plummet over me; use me as you will.”

Page: “Yet be cheerful, knight; thou shall eat tonight at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, who now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender has married her daughter.”

Mrs Page: (aside) “Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, Dr Caius’ wife.”

Enter Slender

Slender: “Whoa, ho, ho, father Page. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she’s a great lubberly boy.”

Page: “Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. This is your own folly.”

Mrs Page: “Good husband, be not angry. She is now with the doctor at the deanery, and they’re married.”

Enter Caius

Caius: “Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I have married un garcon, a boy; it is not Anne Page.”

Ford: “This is strange. Who has got the right Anne.”

Page: “My heart misgives me; here comes Master Fenton.”

Enter Fenton and Anne Page

Anne: “Pardon, good father. Good mother, pardon.”

Page: “Now, Mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender?”

Mrs Page: “Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid?”

Fenton: “You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it. You would have married her most shamefully, where there was no proportion held in love. The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. The offence is is holy that she has committed; and this deceit loses the name of craft, or disobedience, since therein she does shun a thousand irreligious cursed hours, which forced marriage would have brought upon her.”

Page: “Well Fenton, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschewed must be embraced.”

Mrs Page: “Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton, heaven give you many, many merry days! Good husband, let us everyone go home, and laugh this sport over by a country fire; Sir John and all.”

Ford: “Let it be so, Sir John, to Master Brook you yet shall hold your word; for he, tonight, shall lie with Mistress Ford.”

Summary and Analysis

Falstaff arrives in the park disguised as Herne, wearing large horns. He meets up with the Merry Wives and is delighted until he hears the supernatural sounds of the ferries, which terrify him. They then begin to burn him with their tapers and pinch him repeatedly. In the confusion Dr Caius departs with a boy wearing white, Slender does the same with a boy in green and Fenton and Ann run away together. The ferries all run off together and Falstaff is left to face the Merry Wives and their husbands. Ford reveals that he was, in fact, Brook and Falstaff realizes that he has been had yet again. Ford promises not to distrust his wife again and Mistress Page asks Falstaff if he really thought the wives would have compromised their honour for such an unattractive drunken old man. Falstaff admits defeat and says they can all do what they will with him. Ford wants to take him back to Windsor and make him repay all of his many debts. But Page invites him back to the feast at his house in honour of his daughter’s wedding. Slender and Dr Caius arrive upset that they have married young boys instead of Anne. The Fords wonders who in fact did marry Anne, when she and Fenton walk in and announce their marriage. Fenton tells them they were wrong to try to marry Anne to men she did not love and they are all reconciled. As they head off to the feast Ford tells Falstaff that his promise to Brooke will come true, as Brooke is about to seduce Mrs Ford.

Final Thoughts

The Merry Wives of Windsor was commissioned by Queen Elizabeth herself. There is no reason whatsoever to imagine such a play without her determination that it be written. She was so enamoured of the fat knight in Henry IV, Part I late in 1596 and Henry IV, Part II early in 1597 that she commanded and directed him to complete, in April, 1597, in just fourteen days, one more Falstaff play that would show him in love. It was to be performed at the Feast of St George in Windsor Castle, organized by the Knights of the Garter. And indeed it was. Shakespeare set the play in Windsor and made frequent allusions to the castle and the Garter Inn. Few have ever maintained that even Shakespeare himself could have possibly composed a completely new play in just two weeks time, so it is assumed that he revised an old one and the most likely candidate is ‘A Jealous Comedy’, first performed in 1593 by the combined Admiral’s and Strange’s Men. The evidence is in similar lines recited in the horse stealing scene and by Dr Caius. One can only imagine what those two weeks must have been like for the 33 year old playwright, actor and director coming into his prime.

Merry Wives in one of the most enjoyed plays in the canon, with its tale of the lovable rogue, Falstaff, getting his comeuppance at the hands of the women he hopes to compromise. It is also one of the best constructed farces in the business. The title suggests the lead characters are the wives themselves but the star of the play is certainly the rambunctious Falstaff, who drops into the dull world of Windsor and turns it on its head. The housewives who he thinks will be easily had, the Merry Mistresses Ford and Page, quickly turn the tables on him and he is repeatedly humiliated but eventually reconciled in the end with both the wives and their husbands.

Not everyone, however, was pleased with The Merry Wives of Windsor. William Hazlitt said that while it is no doubt a very amusing play he should have like it much better if anyone else had been the lead instead of Falstaff. Indeed, he is hardly the same man as he was in the two parts of Henry IV, as his wit and eloquence have left him and instead of making a butt of others, he is made a butt of by them. The great Harold Bloom was devastated by this portrayal of Falstaff, calling him pseudo-Falstaff and a rank imposter. It is a puzzle to him why Shakespeare subjected poor Sir John to such a ‘mindless laceration, a bear bating with Falstaff in love as the bear.’ He concludes, ‘you can cram any fat man into a basket and get a laugh, but it does not have to be Falstaff, nor need his creator by Shakespeare.’ Many have echoed this sentiment, wondering why Shakespeare would inflict this play on the character who represents his own wit at its most triumphant.

Nonetheless it is a play that pleases the many audiences and stages it has graced. It has always been among Shakespeare’s most popular works. It may be a hard play to take seriously but since when was it expected to be? Shakespeare wrote many crowd pleasers and they were not all tragedies. Youtube has countless examples of its productions that impress. Simply type Merry Wives of Windsor full plays and take your pick.

  

The Two Noble Kinsmen

Introduction

Perhaps Shakespeare’s final play, The Two Noble Kinsmen is about as obscure as any of the Bard’s works. This could be because it is a collaborative work, written with John Fletcher, or perhaps because it is a waning work, far removed from the period of his great tragic successes. Shakespeare will retire to Stratford soon after writing Two Noble Kinsmen, never to return, and will be dead within three years at the age of 52. These are the final writings of any sort from the author of Hamlet and King Lear. The rest is silence. Considering the life expectancy in Elizabethan England was around 35 years, the Bard did alright and earned his brief retirement from the London theatre scene. The Globe burned down during the opening performance of Henry VIII in 1613, or perhaps Shakespeare might have hung around a bit longer and created three of four more plays. Then again, London was an increasingly wicked place during the reign of King James. The court was corrupt and the city was overcrowded and disease ridden. It may have simply been time to go home.

Two Noble Kinsman is a late Tragic-Comedy written by Shakespeare and John Fletcher. It is a story about the trials of friendship, a very familiar Shakespearean theme. Palamon and his cousin, Arcite, vow that their friendship will last forever. However, after they are captured in a war and brought back to Athens as prisoners, they encounter Princess Emilia, and each fall hopelessly in love with her immediately and their relationship becomes one of rivalry. Arcite is released and banished from Athens but returns disguised, to be a servant for Emilia. The jailer’s daughter falls in love with and releases Palamon, but then goes mad with desire for him. Outside of Athens, in the forest, the two kinsmen encounter each other and decide to fight a duel over Emilia, when Theseus, the Athenian ruler, discovers them and demands that their duel determine which of them will wed Emilia. The loser will be executed. Arcite wins the fight but is crushed by a horse he is riding while celebrating his victory. As he is dying he reconciles with Palamon and offers him Emilia. The play ends with Palamon wedding Emilia and the jailer’s daughter being restored to sanity.

While the characters lack the depth we associate with Shakespeare, the language is exquisite. We do not explore the psychology of the characters or the moral dilemma of their choices so much as the resolution of what seems irresolvable and the passions provoked by the dilemma the characters face. This is consistent with Fletcher’s reputation as a writer. He had become one of the masters of the Jacobean stage, with its emphasis on theatrical extravagance and tragic comedic romance. But the language is superb throughout the play, especially between the two cousins as they become rivals and must oppose one another while at the same time preserving and acknowledging their love as kinsmen. This play was rarely produced until the twentieth century, and only very recently included conclusively into the Shakespeare canon, which offers hope that we may encounter it more and more on the stage, where no doubt, it will excel.

Prologue

“New plays and maidenheads are near akin, much followed both; and a good play is like her that after holy tie and first night’s stir yet still is modesty and still retains more of the maid to site than husband’s pains. We pray our play may be so, for I am sure it has a noble breeder. Chaucer, of all admired, the story gives; there constant to eternity it lives. If we let fall the nobleness of this and the first sound this child hear be a hiss, how will it shakes the bones of that good man. This is the fear we bring, for, to say truth, it were an endless thing and too ambitious to aspire to him, weak as we are, and almost breathless swim in this deep water. Do but you hold out your helping hands, and we shall tack about and something do to save us. You shall hear scenes, though below his art, may yet appear worth two hours’ travel. To his bones sweet sleep. If this play do not keep a little dull time from us, we perceive our losses fall so thick we must needs leave.”

Summary and Analysis

The prologue addresses the audience and compares a new play to virginity and a new bride, suggesting that both are highly admirable and wishing to appear fresh and robust as things progress. This analogy may seem sexist to modern audiences, but Shakespeare’s crowds would not have batted an eye. Prologue furthermore states that this play has a noble breeder in Chaucer and the players hope to do justice to his work, as weak as they are compared to him. Though below his art, with their applause they will try to make their effort worthy of the two hours of the play. Two Noble Kinsmen is based on Chaucer’s The Knight’s Tale, a part of The Canterbury Tales.

Act I (5 scenes)

Scene i

Wedding procession to an Athenian temple

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous and Emilia.

A song is heard.

Then enter Three Queens. The first falls down at the foot of Theseus; the second at the foot of Hippolyta; the third before Emilia.

1 Queen: “For pity’s sake and true gentility’s, hear and respect me.”

2 Queen: “For your mother’s sake, and as you wish your womb may thrive with fair ones, hear and respect me.”

3 Queen: “Now for the love of clear virginity, be advocate for us and our distresses. This good deed shall raze you out of the Book of Trespasses, where all of you are set down there.”

Theseus: “Sad lady, rise.”

Hippolyta: “Stand up.”

Emilia: “No knees to me. What woman I may help that is distressed does bind me to her.”

The Queen rises

Theseus: “What’s your request? Deliver you for all.”

1 Queen: (kneels) “We are three queens whose sovereigns fell before the wrath of cruel Creon, who endured the beaks of ravens, talons of kites, and pecks of crows in the foul fields of Thebes. He will not suffer us to burn their bones, to urn their ashes, but infects the winds with stench of our slain lords. O, pity, duke, thou purger of the earth. Give us the bones of our dead kings that we may chapel them.”

Theseus: “Pray you, kneel not; I was transported with your speech. I have heard the fortunes of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting as wakes my vengeance and revenge for ’em. King Capaneus was your lord. The day that he should marry you, I met your groom. You were that time fair.”

1 Queen: “O, I hope some god has put his mercy in your manhood, whereto he’ll infuse power and press you forth our undertaker.”

Theseus: “O, no knees, none, widow; and pray for me, your soldier – troubled I am.”

2 Queen: (kneels) “Honoured Hippolyta, most dreaded Amazonian, that with thy arm was near to make the male to thy sex captive, but that this thy lord, at once subduing thy force and thy affection: whom now I know has much more power on him than ever he had on thee, bid him that we, whom flaming war does scorch, under the shadow of his sword may cool us; speak it in a woman’s key; weep ere you fail.”

Hippolyta: “Poor lady, say no more. My lord is taken heart-deep with your distress. Let him consider; I’ll speak anon.”

3 Queen: (kneels) “O, my petition was set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied melts into drops.”

Emilia: “Pray, stand up; your grief is written in your cheek.”

3 Queen: “O, pardon me; extremity that sharpens sundry wits makes me a fool.”

Emilia: “Pray you say nothing. Being a natural sister of our sex, your sorrow beats so ardently upon me that it shall make a counter-reflect against my brother’s heart and warm it to some pity though it were made of stone. Pray have good comfort.”

Theseus: “Forward to the temple.”

1 Queen: “Remember that your fame knolls in the ear of the world. Think, dear Duke, think what beds our slain kings have.”

2 Queen: “What griefs our beds, that our dear lords have none.”

3 Queen: “None fit for the dead.”

1 Queen: “But our lords lie blistering before the visiting sun, and were good kings, when living.”

Theseus: “It is true, and I will give you comfort to give your dead lords graves, the which to do must make some work with Creon.”

1 Queen: “And that work presents itself to the doing.”

2 Queen: “Now you may take him drunk with his victory.”

3 Queen: “And his army full of bread and sloth.”

Theseus: “Artesius, fit to this enterprise, and the number to carry such a business forth and levy our worthiest instruments while we dispatch this grand act of our life, this daring deed of fate in wedlock.”

1 Queen: “Widows, take hands; let us be widows to our woes.”

2 Queen: “We come unseasonably, but when could grief cull forth for best solicitation?”

Theseus: “Why, good ladies, this is a service, whereto I am going greater than any; more imports me than all the actions that I have foregone or futurely can cope.”

1 Queen: “The more proclaiming our suit shall be neglected. When her arms shall corset thee what will thou think of rotten kings or blubbered queens? What thou feels being able to make Mars spurn his drum? O, if thou couch but one night with her, every hour in it will take hostage of thee for a hundred, and thou shall remember nothing more than what that banquet bids thee too.”

Hippolyta: (kneels) “Sir, prorogue this business we are going about and hang your shield afore your heart, about that neck which I freely lend to do these poor queens service.”

All queens: (to Emilia) ” O, help now!”

Emilia: (kneels) “If you grant not my sister her petition I’ll not dare to ask you anything nor be so hardy ever to take a husband.”

Theseus: “Pray stand up. I am entreating of myself to do that which you kneel to have me. Pirithous, lead on the bride. Get you and pray the gods for success and return; omit not anything. In the pretended celebrations, Queens, follow your soldier. (to Artesius) As before, meet with us the forces you can raise, for a business more bigger looked. (exit Artesius) Since that our theme is haste, I stamp this kiss upon thy current lip; sweet, keep it as my token. Farewell, my beauteous sister. Pirithous, keep the feast full.”

Pirithous: “Sir, the feast’s solemnity shall want till your return.”

Theseus: “We shall be returning ere you can end this feast. Once more, farewell all.”

1 Queen: “Thus does thou still make good the tongue of the world.”

2 Queen: “And earns a deity equal with Mars.”

3 Queen: “If not above him, for thou being but mortal make affections bend to godlike honours.”

Theseus: “As we are men, thus should we do; being sensually subdued, we lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies. Now we turn towards your comforts.”

Summary and Analysis

Theseus and Hippolyta are preparing to wed when three mourning queens arrive to tell their story of how cruel King Creon killed their husbands, all good kings, and left their bodies to rot in the blistering sun. The queens have come to ask of King Thesius that he take an army and procure a proper burial for their dead husbands. Theseus, Hippolyta and Emilia are all moved by the petitions of the Queens. At first Theseus wants to continue with the wedding before helping the Queens but he is convinced by Hippolyta to provide more immediate help. He gathers an army and departs for Crete, telling the gathering of wedding guests that he will return home victorious before the feast is concluded. The queens praise Theseus as being equal with the gods. Women were thought to be more tender hearted and merciful than men, so the Queen naturally appeal to Hippolyta and Emilia to influence Theseus. There is an understandable bond between women in an oppressed and sexist culture. These three queens and two women of the court successfully accomplish what individually they would not have been capable of achieving in that patriarchal society. 

Act I

Scene ii

Thebes, near Creon’s palace

Enter Palamon and Arcite

Arcite: “Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood and our prime cousin, yet unhardened in the crimes of nature, let us leave the city Thebes and the temptings in it before we further sully our gloss of youth.”

Palamon: “What strange ruins, since first we went to school, may we perceive walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds the gain of the martialist, who did propound to his bold ends honour, which though he won, he had not; and now flirted by peace, for whom he fought. I do bleed when such I meet, to get the soldier work.”

Arcite: “Meet you no ruin but the soldier of Thebes?”

Palamon: “Yes, I pity decays wherever I find them.”

Arcite: “This is virtue of no respect in Thebes; where every evil has a good colour, where ever seeming goods a certain evil; here were to be mere monsters.”

Palamon: “Tis in our power, unless we fear that apes can tutor us, to be masters of our manners.”

Arcite: “Our uncle Creon.”

Palamon: “He, a most unbounded tyrant, whose successes make villainy assured; he who fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let the blood of mine that is sib to him be sucked from me with leeches!”

Arcite: “Clear-spirited cousin, let’s leave his court that we may nothing share of his loud infamy.”

Palamon: “Nothing truer. I think the echoes of his shames have deafened the ears of heavenly justice. Widows’ cries descend again into their throats and have not due audience of the gods.”

Enter Valerius

Valerius: “The king calls for you, yet be leaden-footed till his great rage be off him.”

Palamon: “But what’s the matter?”

Valerius: “Theseus, has sent deadly defiance to him and pronounces ruin to Thebes, who is at hand to seal the promise of his wrath.”

Arcite: “Let him approach. He brings not a jot of terror to us.”

Palamon: “Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon; therefore we must with him stand to the mercy of our fate.”

Arcite: “So we must.”

Palamon: “Let’s to the king.”

Summary and Analysis

Summary and Analysis

The two cousins bemoan the tragic state of their home of Thebes, ruled as it is by their evil uncle Creon. It is a corrupt state full of misery and suffering and the two gentlemen fear that they too will become compromised and corrupted if they remain there. When they learn that Theseus is about to attack Thebes, they are initially torn over what is the more honourable response and determine that they must defend their family and friends and remain loyal to their uncle, despite his evil nature. Family is family and Thebes is their home, regardless of the fact that Theseus is righteous and their uncle is not. They put themselves in the hands of the gods and reluctantly accept their fate.

Act I

Scene iii

Near the gates of Athens

Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta and Emilia

Hippolyta: “Sir, farewell. Repeat my wishes to our great lord; I wish him excess and overflow of power; speed to him.”

Pirithous: “My precious maid, those best affections that the heavens infuse in their best-tempered pieces keep enthroned in your dear heart.”

Emilia: “Thanks, sir. Remember me to our all-royal brother, for whose speed I’ll solicit. Our hearts are in his army, in his tent.”

Hippolyta: “In his bosom. We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep when our friends don their helmets, or put to sea, or tell of babes broached on the lance, or women who have sod their infants in the brine they wept at killing them, and after ate them.”

Pirithous: “Peace be to you as I pursue this war.”

Exit Pirithous

Emilia: “How his longing follows his friend! Since his depart, his sports passed slightly his careless execution, where nor gain made him regard or loss consider, but playing one business in his hand, another directing in his head, his mind nurse equal to these so differing twins. Have you observed him since our great lord departed?”

Hippolyta: “With much labour. They two have cabined in many as dangerous peril and want contending; they have skipped torrents whose roaring tyranny and power in the least of these was dreadful; and they have sought out together where death’s self was lodged, yet faith has brought them off. Their knot of love, tied, weaved, entangled, may be outworn, never undone.”

Emilia: “Doubtless there is a best, and reason has no manners to say it is not you. I was acquainted once with a playfellow. You were at wars when she the grave enriched, when our count was each eleven.”

Hippolyta: “Twas Flavina.”

Emilia: “Yes. You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love; theirs is more maturely seasoned, more buckled with strong judgment, and their needs the one of the other may be said to water their entangled roots of love; but I and she I sigh and spoke of were things innocent, loved for we did, and like the elements that know not what nor why yet do effect rare issues by their operance, our souls did so to one another. What she liked was then of me approved, what not, condemned – no more arraignment. Had my ear stolen some new air or at adventure hummed one from musical coinage, why, it was a note whereon her spirits would sojourn – rather dwell on – and sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal has this end, that the true love between a maid and maid may be more than in sex distinct.”

Hippolyta: “And this is but to say that you shall never, like the maid Flavina, love any called man.”

Emilia: “I am sure I shall not.”

Hippolyta: “Now alack, weak sister, I must no more believe thee in this point – though in it I know thou does believe thyself – than I will trust a sickly appetite that loathes even as it longs. But sure, my sister, if I were ripe for your persuasion, you have said enough to shake me from the arm of the all-noble Theseus.”

Emilia: “I am not against your faith, yet I continue mine.”

Summary and Analysis

As Pirithous prepares to leave for battle with Theseus, Hippolyta and Emilia send their best wishes and pray to the gods for their support. These gods play a most significant role throughout the play. The two women note that Pirithous and Theseus have fought side by side for so long that they are like two bodies with one soul. They are a second example of the power and intimacy of renaissance friendship. Emilia then offers a third testament by recalling her dear childhood friend, Flavina, who died at the age of eleven. They were likewise close and she believes that true love between two women is stronger than the sexual bond between a man and a woman and she suggests she will never love a man. Hippolyta was once an Amazon warrior, but eventually compromised and married Theseus. Hippolyta believes Emilia will outgrow her preference for women but Emilia insists she will never marry.  

Act I

Scene iv

Somewhere between the battlefield and Athens

Enter victorious Theseus and the Three Queens

1 Queen: “To thee no star be dark.”

2 Queen: “Both heaven and earth friend thee forever.”

3 Queen: “All the good that may be wished upon thy head, I cry amen to.”

Theseus: “Go and find out the bones of your dead lords and honour them. So adieu, and heaven’s good eyes look on you.”

Exit queens

Enter Herald before Palamon and Arcite, carried in on hearses.

Theseus: “What are those?”

Heald: “Men of great quality. Some of Thebes have told us they are nephews to the King.”

Theseus: “By the helm of mars, I saw them in the war, liked to a pair of lions smeared with prey. I fixed my note constantly on them, for they were a mark worth a god’s view.”

Herald: “They are called Arcite and Palamon.”

Theseus: “They are not dead?”

Herald: “Nor in a state of life. Yet they breathe and have the name of men.”

Theseus: “Then like men, use them. All our surgeons convent on their behalf; our richest balms waste. Their lives concern us much more than Thebes is worth. Minister what man to man may do. For our love and great Apollo’s mercy, all our best their best skill tender. We will post to Athens before our army.”

Summary and Analysis

Theseus returns home victorious and assures the three queens that they may proceed with dignified funeral rites for their fallen husbands. Attendants enter with Arcite’s and Palamon’s unconscious bodies. Theseus recognizes them and acknowledges their heroism on the battlefield. He insists they be treated with dignity and nursed back to good health as much as possible. Theseus is portrayed as honourable in this scene, caring for and acting on behalf of both the widowed queens and these two noble prisoners of war.”

Act I

Scene v

Somewhere between the battlefield and Athens

Enter the Queens with hearses

The Queens (singing): “Urns and odours bring away; vapours, sighs darken the day; Our dole more deadly looks than dying. Balms and heavy cheers, sacred vials filled with tears.”

3 Queen: “This funeral path brings to your household’s grave. Peace sleep with him.”

2 Queen: “And this to yours.”

1 Queen: “Yours this way. Heavens lend a thousand differing ways to one sure end.”

3 Queen: “This world’s a city full of straying streets, and death’s the marketplace where each one meets.”

Summary and Analysis

During the funeral procession the Queens acknowledge the unavoidable reality of grieving and death. We may all follow very different paths during life but we meet the same fate in the end.

Act II (6 scenes)

Scene i

A garden near the prison

Enter jailer and a wooer

Jailer: “I may depart with little while I live. Alas, the prison I keep, though it be for great ones, yet they seldom come; before one salmon you shall take a number of minnows. Marry, what I have – be it what it will – I will assure upon my daughter at the end of my death.”

Wooer: “Sir, here she comes.”

Jailer: “Look tenderly to the two prisoners. I can tell you they are princes.”

Daughter: “Tis pity they are in prison, and t’were pity thy should be out. The prison itself is proud of them, and they have all the world in their chamber.”

Jailer: “They are famed to be a pair of absolute men. I heard them reported in the battle to be the only doers.”

Daughter: “Most likely, for they are noble sufferers, making misery their mirth and affliction a toy to jest at. It seems to me they have no more sense of their captivity than I of ruling Athens. They eat well, look merrily, discourse of many things but nothing of their restraint and disasters.”

Jailer: “The Duke himself came privately in the night. What the reason is, I know not.”

Enter Palamon and Arcite

Daughter: “It is a holiday to look on them. Lord, the difference of men!”

Summary and Analysis

The jailer demonstrates his goodness and humility, acknowledging that while he does not have much he will give whatever he can to his daughter. Both the jailer and the daughter agree that Palamon and Arcite are noble and worthy gentlemen to suffer their plight as prisoners with such grace and fortitude. ‘They are absolute men.’ In a foreshadowing of what is to come the jailer’s daughter admits that she enjoys looking at the two prisoners. ’Lord, the difference of men!’

Act II

Scene ii

The prison

Palamon and Arcite imprisoned

Arcite: “How do you, sir?”

Palamon: “Why, strong enough to laugh at misery and bear the chance of war; yet we are prisoners I fear forever, cousin.”

Arcite: “I believe it.”

Palamon: “O cousin, where is Thebes now? Where is our noble country? Where are our friends and our kindreds? Never more must we behold those comforts? Oh, never shall we two exercise, like twins of honour, our arms again and feel our fiery horses like proud seas under us. Our good swords now, like age, must run to rust. These hands shall never blast whole armies more.”

Arcite: “No, Palamon, those hopes are prisoners with us. Here the graces of our youth must wither; here age must find us, which is heaviest, unmarried. The sweet embraces of a loving wife shall never clasp our necks; no issue know us; no figures of ourselves shall we ever see to gladden our age. The fair eyes maids shall weep our banishments and curse ever-blinded fortune till she for shame sees what a wrong she has done to youth and nature. This is all our world, and we shall know nothing here but one another.”

Palamon: “Tis too true, Arcite. The food and nourishment of noble minds in us two here shall perish; we shall die lastly, children of grief and ignorance.”

Arcite: “Yet, cousin, even from the bottom of these miseries, from all that fortune can inflict upon us, I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings, if the gods please: to hold here a brave patience and the enjoying of our griefs together.”

Palamon: “Certainly tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes were twined together. Tis most true, two souls put in two noble bodies, let ’em suffer the gaul of hazard, so they grow together and will never sink.”

Arcite: “Shall we make worthy uses of this place that all men hate so much?

Palamon: “How, gentle cousin?”

Arcite: “Let’s think this prison holy sanctuary to keep us from corruption of worse men. What worthy blessing can be, but our imaginations may make it ours? And here being thus together we are one another’s wife; we are father, friends, acquaintances; we are, in one another, families. I am your heir and you are mine; this place is our inheritance. Here with a little patience we shall live long and loving. Were we at liberty, a wife might part us lawfully; quarrels consume us; envy of ill men crave our acquaintance. I might sicken, cousin, where you should never know it and so perish without your noble hand to close my eyes. A thousand chances, were we from hence, would sever us.”

Palamon: “I thank you, cousin Arcite – almost wanton with my captivity. What a misery it is to live abroad and everywhere! Tis like a beast, methinks, and all those pleasures that woo the wills of men to vanity I see through now and am sufficient to tell the world ’tis but a gaudy shadow that old Time, as he passes by, takes with him. What had we been, old in the court of Creon, where sin is justice, lust and ignorance the virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite, had not the loving gods found this place for us, we had died as they do, ill old men, unwept, and had their epitaphs, the people’s curses. Shall I say more?”

Arcite: “I would hear you still.”

Palamon: “Ye shall. Is there record of any two who loved better than we, Arcite?”

Arcite: “Sure, there cannot be.”

Palamon: “I do not think it possible our friendship should ever leave us.”

Arcite: “Till our deaths it cannot.”

Enter Emilia and her woman. Palamon sees her.

Arcite: “And after death our spirits shall be led to those who loved eternally – Speak on, sir.”

Emilia: “This garden has a world of pleasure in it. What flower is this?”

Woman: “Tis called narcissus, madam.”

Emilia: “That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool to love himself. Were there not maids enough?”

Arcite: “Pray, forward.”

Palamon: “Yes.”

Emilia: “Or were they all hard-hearted? Men are mad things.”

Arcite: “Will you go forward, cousin? Cousin? Cousin, how do you do, sir? Why, Palamon!”

Palamon: “Never till now was I in prison, Arcite.”

Arcite: “Why, what’s the matter, man?”

Palamon: “Behold and wonder! By seven, she is a goddess.”

Arcite: “Ha!”

Palamon: “Do reverence; she is a goddess, Arcite.”

Emilia: “Of all flowers methinks a rose is best.”

Woman: “Why, gentle madam?”

Emilia: “It is the very emblem of a maid.”

Arcite: “She is wondrous fair.”

Palamon: “She is all the beauty extant.”

Emilia: “The sun grows high; let’s walk in. Keep thee flowers; I am wondrous merry-hearted; I could laugh now.”

Palamon: “What think you of this beauty?”

Alcite: “Tis a rare one. Yes, a matchless beauty.”

Palamon: “Might not a man well lose himself and love her?”

Arcite: “I have. Now I feel my shackles.”

Palamon: “You love her then?”

Arcite: “Who would not?”

Palamon: “And desire her?”

Arcite: “Before my liberty.”

Palamon: “I saw her first.”

Arcite: “That’s nothing. I saw her too.”

Palamon: “Yes, but you must not love her.”

Arcite: “I will not as you do – to worship her as she is heavenly and a blessed goddess; I love her as a woman, to enjoy her. So both may love.”

Palamon: “You shall not love at all.”

Arcite: “Not love at all? Who shall deny me?”

Palamon: “I who first saw her; I who took possession first with my eyes of all those beauties in her revealed to mankind. If thou loves her or entertains a hope to blast my wishes, thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow false as thy title to her. Friendship, blood, and all the ties between us I disclaim, if thou once thinks upon her.”

Arcite: “Yes, I love her, I must do so. I love her with my soul. If that will lose ye, farewell Palamon. I say again I love, and have as just a title to her beauty as any Palamon or any living who is a man’s son.”

Palamon: “Have I called thee friend?”

Arcite: “Yes, and have found me so. Let me deal coldly with you. Am I not part of your blood, part of your soul? You have told me that I was Palamon and you were Arcite.”

Palamon: “Yes.”

Arcite: “Am I not liable to those affections, those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer?”

Palamon: “Ye may be.”

Arcite: “Why then would you deal so cunningly, so strangely, so unlike a noble kinsman, to love alone? Speak truly. Do you think me unworthy of her sight?”

Palamon: “No, but unjust if thou pursue that sight. If thou pursue her, be as that cursed man who hates his country, a branded villain.”

Arcite: “You are mad.”

Palamon: “I must be, till thou are worthy, Arcite – it concerns me – and in this madness if I hazard thee and take thy life, I deal but truly.”

Arcite: “Fie, sir, you play the child extremely. I will love her; I must, I ought to do so, and I dare, and all this justly.”

Palamon: “O that now thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune, I would quickly teach thee what it were to filch affection from another. Thou are baser in it than a catpurse. Put but thy head out of this window more, and as I have a soul, I’ll nail thy life to it.”

Arcite: “Thou dares not, fool; thou cannot, thou art feeble. Put my head out? I’ll throw my body out and leap the garden when I see her next, and pitch between her arm to anger thee.”

Enter jailer

Palamon: ” No more; the keeper’s coming. I shall live to knock thy brains out with my shackles.”

Arcite: “Do.”

Jailer: “Lord Arcite, you must presently to the Duke; the cause I know not yet.”

Arcite: “I am ready, keeper.”

Exit Arcite and Jailer

Palamon: “Why is he sent for? It may be he shall marry her; he’s goodly and like enough the Duke has taken notice both of his blood and body. But his falsehood! Why should a friend be treacherous? If that gets him a wife so noble and so fair, let honest men never love again. Once more, I would but see this fair one. Blessed garden, and fruit and flowers more blessed that still blossom as her bright eyes shine on ye, would I were for all the fortune of my life hereafter yon little tree, yon blooming apricot, how I would spread and spring my wanton arms in at her window! I would bring her fruit fit for the gods to feed on. And then I am sure she would love me.”

Enter jailer

Palamon: “How now, keeper? Where’s Arcite?”

Jailer: “Banished. Prince Pirithous obtained his liberty, but nevermore upon his oath and life must he set foot upon this kingdom.”

Palamon: “He’s a blessed man. He shall see Thebes again. Were I at liberty, I would do things of such a virtuous greatness that this lady, this blushing virgin, should take manhood to her and seek to ravish me.”

Jailer: “My lord, for you I have this charge -“

Palamon: “To discharge my life?”

Jailer: “No, but from this place to remove your lordship.”

Palamon: “Prithee kill me.”

Jailer: “And hang for it afterward?”

Palamon: “Had I a sword I would kill thee.”

Jailer: “Why, my lord?”

Palamon: “Thou brings such scurvy news, thou art not worthy of life. I will not go.”

Jailer: “Indeed you must, my lord.”

Palamon: “May I see the garden?”

Jailer: “No.”

Palamon: “Then I am resolved; I will not go.”

Jailer: “I must constrain you then; and as you are dangerous I’ll clap more irons on you.”

Palamon: “Do, good keeper. I’ll shake them so, you shall not sleep. Must I go?”

Jailer: “There is no remedy.”

Palamon: “Farewell, kind window. O my lady, if ever thou has felt what sorrow was, dream how I suffer. Come, now bury me.”

Summary and Analysis

The two cousins find themselves imprisoned and fear they will remain so forever. They try to accept their fate but this is difficult as they will never be able to exercise, fall in love or fight battles. However they do have each other and wax poetic about making their prison a holy sanctuary free from the corruption in Thebes. They are as one soul shared within two bodies. ‘Were we at liberty, a wife might part us lawfully.’  Prophetically, just then Emilia enters the garden outside their window, reflecting about how men ‘are such mad things,’ due to how their passions lead them to self-destructive and reckless foolishness, and indeed, both cousins immediately fall hopelessly in love with their vision of her. Palamon insists she is his because he saw her first and that Arcite is a traitor if he desires her as well. All of this before they even meet her. Their close friendship and bond as cousins shatters within minutes of seeing Emilia. Palamon actually threatens to kill Arcite if he even looks out the window toward Emilia again. The jailer enters and leads Arcite away to see Theseus. Palamon is informed that Arcite has been released on the condition that he never step foot in Athens gain. This pivotal scene demonstrates the intense bond between the two noble kinsmen and then sees that bond destroyed in an instant with the arrival of Emilia, as they become instant enemies and anything but noble, over a woman they have merely glimpsed from afar.

Act II

Scene iii

The countryside near Athens

Enter Arcite

Arcite: “Banished from the kingdom? Tis a benefit, a mercy I must be thankful for. But banished as well from the free enjoying of that face I die for. O, ’twas studied punishment, a death beyond imagination. Palamon, thou has the start now; thou shall stay and see her bright eyes break each morning against the window and let in life to thee; thou shall feed upon the sweetness of a noble beauty that nature never exceeded nor never shall. Good gods, what happiness has Palamon! Twenty to one he’ll come to speak to her, and if she be as gentle as she is fair, I know she is his. I will not leave the kingdom. If I go, he has her. I’ll see her and be near her or no more.”

Exit Arcite

Enter four country people

1 Countryman: “My masters, I’ll be there; that’s certain.”

2 Countryman: “And I’ll be there.”

3 Countryman: “And I.”

1 Countryman: “I am sure to have my wife as jealous as a turkey.”

2 Countryman: “Clap her aboard tomorrow night and stow her, and all’s made up again.”

4 Countryman: “Shall we be lusty?”

2 Countryman: “All the boys in Athens blow wind in the breech on us. (he dances). And here I’ll be and there I’ll be for our town, and here again and there again.”

1 Countryman: “This must be done in the woods.”

3 Countryman: “We’ll see the sports, sweet companions; let’s rehearse by any means before the ladies see us and do sweetly.”

Enter Arcite

Arcite: “By your leaves, honest friends; pray you, whither go you.”

4 Countryman: “Whither? Why, what a question’s that?”

Arcite: “Yes, ’tis a question, to me who knows not.”

3 Countryman: “To the games, my friend.”

2 Countryman: “Where were you bred, you know it not?”

Arcite: “Not far, sir. Are there such games today?”

1 Countryman: “Yes, marry, are there, and such as you never saw. The Duke himself will be in person there.”

Arcite: “What pastimes are they?”

2 Countryman: “Wrestling and running.”

Exit Countrymen

Arcite: “This is an offered opportunity. I’ll venture and in some poor disguise be there. Who knows whether my brows may not be girt with garlands and happiness prefer me to a place where I may ever dwell in sight of her?

Summary and Analysis

Arcite is happy to be free but distraught that he cannot se Emilia. Furthermore, he believes Palamon is fortunate in being able to look upon her daily, not knowing that the jailer has forbid Palamon from looking out the prison window. Four countrymen enter and discuss the May Day sporting games that are about to commence. Arcite arrives and must disguise himself, as he has been banished. He asks about the games and decides he will participate, win honours and perhaps win Emilia.

Act II

Scene iv

Near the prison

Enter the jailer’s daughter

Daughter: “Why should I love this gentleman? Tis odds he never will affect me. I am base, my father the mean keeper of his prison, and he a prince. To marry him is hopeless; to be his whore is witless. Out upon it! First I saw him, and, seeing, thought he was a goodly man. He has much to please a woman in him, if he please to bestow it so, if ever these eyes yet looked upon. Next I pitied him, and so would any young wench. O my conscience, that ever dreamed, or vowed her maidenhead to a young handsome man. Then I loved him, extremely loved him, infinitely loved him. To hear him sing in an evening, what a heaven it is, and yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken was never a gentleman. When I come in to bring him water in the morning, first he bows his noble body, then salutes me thus: “Fair gentle maid, good morrow; may thy goodness get thee a happy husband.’ Once he kissed me and I loved my lips the better ten days after. Would he would do so every day. He grieves much and me as much to see his misery. What should I do to make him know I love him, for I would fain enjoy him? Say I ventured to set him free. What says the law then? Thus much for law or kindred! I will do it and this night; ere tomorrow he shall love me.”

Exit

Summary and Analysis

The Jailer’s Daughter knows full well her dilemma, but she marches forward nonetheless, as in a dream. Palamon is out of her reach as a noble but her love is seemingly boundless: ‘I love him extremely and infinitely.’ She determines to betray her very father and set him free, that he might love her. It seems that Palamon has conspired to lull her into such a precarious decision, having kissed her, even though he is hopelessly in love with Emilia. She has fallen in love with Palamon as rashly as the two kinsmen have fallen for Emilia. 

Act II

Scene v

Ner Athens

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia and Arcite, disguised.

Theseus: “You have done worthily; I have not seen since Hercules a man of tougher sinews. Whatever you are, you run and wrestle the best that these times can allow.”

Arcite: “I am proud to please you.”

Theseus: “What country bred you?”

Arcite: “This, but far off, prince.”

Theseus: “Are you a gentleman?”

Arcite: “My father said so.”

Theseus: “What proves you?”

Arcite: “A little of all noble qualities. I could have kept a hawk. I dare not praise my feat in horsemanship, yet they who knew me would say it was my best piece. Last and greatest, I would be thought a soldier.”

Theseus: “You are perfect.”

Pirithous: “Upon my soul, a proper man.”

Emilia: “He is so.”

Pirithous: “How do you like him, lady?”

Hippolyta: “I admire him. His body and fiery mind illustrate a brave father.”

Pirithous: “Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun, breaks through his baser garments.”

Theseus: “What makes you seek this place, sir?”

Arcite: “Noble Theseus, to do my ablest service to such a well-found wonder as thy worth, for only in thy court, of all the world, dwells fair-eyed honour.”

Pirithous: “All his words are worthy.”

Theseus: “Sir, we are much indebted to your travel, nor shall you lose your wish. Pirithous, dispose of this fair gentleman.”

Pirithous: “Thanks, Theseus. Whatever you are, you’re mine, and I shall give you to a most noble service, to this lady, this bright young virgin; pray observe her goodness. You have honoured her fair birthday with your virtues, and as your due you’re hers. Kiss her fair hand, sir.”

Arcite: “Sir, you’re a noble giver. Dearest beauty, thus let me seal my vowed faith. (kisses her hand)

Emilia: “You’re mine, and somewhat better than your rank I’ll use you.”

Pirithous: “I’ll see you furnished, and because you say you are a horseman, I must needs entreat you this afternoon to ride, but tis a rough one.”

Arcite: “I like him better, prince.”

Theseus: “You must be ready, Emilia, and you, friend, tomorrow by the sun to do observance to flowery May in Dian’s wood.”

Emilia: “What you want at any time let me but know it. If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you you’ll find a loving mistress.”

Theseus: “Go lead the way. Sister, beshrew my heart. You have a servant that, if I were a woman, would be master; but you are wise.”

Emilia: “I hope too wise for that, sir.”

Exit

Summary and Analysis

Arcite has successfully hatched his plan and has impressed his way into Emilia’s life, as her servant. He did this by winning the May Day games put on by Duke Theseus, who claims he ‘has not seen since Hercules a man of tougher sinews.’ Arcite lies to Theseus, as he must, claiming to be a nobleman from a far off region of this Kingdom of Athens. He furthermore tells him that he has chosen to serve him, as only in his court dwells ‘fair-eyed honour.’ Everyone is duly impressed and Arcite is rewarded by being named a servant to his beloved Emilia. He has cleverly positioned himself favourably to win her heart. However, when Theseus tells Emilia that she now has a servant who could easily become a master, she responds with ‘I hope I am too wise for that.’

Act II

Scene vi

The prison

Enter Jailer’s Daughter

Daughter: “Let all the dukes and all the devils roar: he is at liberty. I have ventured for him, and out I have brought him, and there he shall keep close till I provide him files and food, for yet his bracelets are not off. O love, what a stout-hearted child thou art! I love him beyond love and beyond reason, or wit, or safety. I have made him know it; I care not, I am desperate. If the law find me and then condemn me for it, some wenches, some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge, and tell to memory my death was noble, dying almost a martyr. Sure, he cannot be so unmanly as to leave me here. If he do, maids will not so easily love men again. And yet he has not thanked me for what I have done; no, not so much as kissed me, and that, methinks, is not so well. Yet I hope, when he considers more, this love of mine will take more root within him. Let him do what he will with me so he use me kindly, for use me so he shall, or I’ll proclaim him, and to his face, no man. I’ll presently provide him necessaries and pack my clothes up, and where there is a patch of ground I’ll venture, so he be with me. By him like a shadow I’ll ever dwell. Within this hour the hubbub will be all over the prison. I am then kissing the man they look for. Farewell, father; get many more such prisoners and such daughters and shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him.”

Exit

Summary and Analysis

The Jailer’s Daughter has freed Palamon and she awaits him in the nearby forest so that she can file off his shackles and feed him before they run off together. And yet he is not yet there. She also notes that he has not thanked her and only hopes he is not so unmanly as to leave her there alone. She has likely lost her family over this betrayal and claims to care not about the consequences she may face. If she is executed women will surely sing songs of her martyrdom. She claims she had no choice, as she loves him so desperately beyond reason or safety. By the time the authorities figure out what has happened she hopes to be kissing the man they are looking for. At this point in the play Palamon, Arcite and The Jailer’s Daughter are all recklessly risking their very lives for blind love. Palamon has no interest whatsoever in The Jailer’s daughter and Emilia has made it clear that she is not the least bit inclined toward men or marriage.

Act III (6 scenes)

Scene I

Near Athens

Enter Arcite

Arcite: “The duke has lost Hippolyta. This is a solemn rite they owe bloomed May, and the Athenians pay it to the heart of the ceremony. O Queen Emilia, fresher than May, thou, O jewel has blest a place with thy sole presence. Tell me, O Lady Fortune, how far I may be proud. She takes strong note of me, has made me near her, and this beauteous morn presents me with a brace of horses. Alas, alas, poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner, thou so little dreams upon my fortune that thou thinks thyself the happier thing to be so near Emilia. Me thou deems at Thebes and therein wretched, although free; but if thou knew my mistress breathed on me and that I eared her language, lived in her eye, O cuz, what passion would enclose thee.”

Enter Palamon out of a bush with his shackles, shaking his fist at Arcite.

Palamon: “Traitor kinsman, thou should perceive my passion if these signs of imprisonment were off me and this hand but owner of a sword. By all oaths, my love would make thee a confessed traitor, O thou most perfidious void’st of honour that ever bore gentle token, falsest cousin that ever blood made kin! Call’st thou her thine? I’ll prove with these hands that thou lies and art a very thief in love, not worth the name of villain. Had I a sword -“

Arcite: “Dear Cousin Palamon -“

Palamon: “Tis your passion that thus mistakes, the which, to you being enemy, cannot to me be kind. Honour and honesty I cherish and depend on, and with them, fair coz, I’ll maintain my proceedings. Sir, you were called a good knight. But their valiant temper men lose when they incline to treachery, and then they fight like compelled bears, would fly were they not tied.”

Arcite: “Kinsman, you might as well speak this and act it in your glass as to his ear who now disdains you.”

Palamon: “Come up to me, give me a sword, though it be rusty, and the charity of one meal lend me. Come before me then, a good sword in thy hand, and do but say that Emilia is thine.”

Arcite: “Be content; you shall have garments, and perfumes to kill the smell of the prison. After, when you shall stretch yourself, there shall be at your choice both sword and armour.”

Palamon: “I do embrace you and your offer.”

Arcite:”Give me your hand – farewell. I’ll bring you every needful thing. I pray you, take comfort and be strong.”

Palamon: “Pray hold your promise. Most certain you love me not.”

Sound of wind horns

Arcite: “Hark, sir, they call the scattered to the banquet. You must guess I have an office there.”

Palamon: “Sir, I know your office unjustly is achieved. You are going now to game upon my mistress – for note you, mine she is. You have a vantage over me, but enjoy it until I may enforce my remedy. Farewell.”

Summary and Analysis

Arcite is hopeful of a future with Emilie, but does consider poor Palamon languishing in prison, imagining how furious he would be if he only knew that Arcite is with Emilia. Then suddenly Palamon leaps out from behind a bush and they are shocked to see one another. Palamon believed Arcite to be back in Thebes and Arcite was certain Palamon was still in prison. Now they are both near Emilia, but clearly Arcite has the upper hand. Palamon accuses Arcite of being a ‘Traitor Kinsman’. Arcite tries to be reasonable with Palamon, but he will have none of it, knowing that Arcite got here first and has lied his way into her confidence. At the same time as their conflict is a serious breech in their blood ties, one denotes a friendliness that is barely beneath the surface between them. They don’t want to be so out of sorts but nonetheless cling to the chivalry of their supposed love for Emilia. A horn sounds, indicating that Arcite must return to Theseus’ banquet. He promises to return with food and a file to cut through Palamon’s shackles. They speak of an honourable duel between them to determine who will win Emilie. These Two Noble Kinsmen appear as anything but, when we see them at odds over Emilie.

Act III

Scene ii

In the forest before daybreak

Enter Jailer’s Daughter, alone

Daughter: “He is gone after his fancy. Tis now well nigh morning. No matter; would it were perpetual night and darkness lord of the world. Hark, tis a wolf! In me has grief slain fear, and but for one thing I care for nothing, and that is Palamon. I care not if the wolves would jaw me. I have heard strange howls this livelong night; why may it not be they have made prey of him? He has no weapons. He cannot run; the jingling of his leg irons might call fell things to listen who have in them a sense to know a man unarmed and can smell where resistance is. I’ll set it down he’s torn to pieces. They howled many together, and then they fed on him. So much for that; how stand I then? All’s chared when he is gone. No, no; I lie. My father is to be hanged for his escape, myself to beg if I prized life so much as to deny my act. I am moped. Food took I none these two days. I have not closed my eyes saved when my lid scoured off their brine. Alas, dissolve, my life. Lest I should drown, or stab or hang myself. So which way now? The best way is the next way to a grave. All offices are done save what I fail in. But the point is this: an end, and that is all.”

Exit

Summary and Analysis

The Jailer’s Daughter assumes Palamon has lost his way and likely been eaten by the wolves she has heard howling throughout the night. It does not even occur to her that she has been left behind by one who is not in the least interested in her. Her obsession may border on madness. However, she remains sane enough to realize the fate of her poor father, which may be hers as well when she is discovered by the prison officials. She would prefer a natural death and does not want to be executed or made to commit suicide.

Act III

Scene iii

In the forest where Palamon remains hidden

Enter Arcite with meat, wine and files.

Arcite: “Ho, cousin Palamon!”

Enter Palamon

Palamon: “Arcite?”

Arcite: “The same. I have brought you food and files. Come forth and fear not; there’s no Theseus.”

Palamon: “Nor none so honest, Arcite.”

Arcite: “That’s no matter; we’ll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage; you shall not die thus beastly. Here, sir, drink – I know you are faint – then I’ll talk further with you.”

Palamon: “Arcite, thou might now poison me.”

Arcite: “Sit down and no more of these vain parleys; let us not, having our ancient reputation with us, make talk for fools and cowards. To your health, sir. Sit down and let me entreat you by all the honesty and honour in you no mention of this woman; twill disturb us. We shall have time enough.”

Palamon: “Well, sir, I’ll pledge you. (He drinks)

Arcite: “Drink a good hearty draught; it breeds good blood, man. Do not you feel it thaw you?”

Palamon: “Stay, I’ll tell you after a draught or two more.”

Arcite: “Spare it not. The duke has more, coz. Eat now.”

Palamon: “Yes.” (He eats)

Arcite: “I am glad you have so good a stomach.”

Palamon: “I am gladder I have such good meat.”

Arcite: “Your hunger needs no sauce, I see.”

Palamon: “Not much. What is this?”

Arcite: “Venison.”

Palamon: “Tis a lusty meat. Give me more wine. Here, Arcite, to the wenches we have known in our days… for Emily upon my life. Away with this strained mirth. By heaven and earth, there’s nothing in thee honest.”

Arcite: “Then I’ll leave you. You are a beast now.”

Palamon: “As thou makes me, traitor.”

Arcite: “There’s all things needful – files and shirts and perfumes. I’ll come again some two hours hence and bring that that shall quiet all.”

Palamon: “A sword and armour.”

Arcite: “You are now too foul. Farewell.”

Summary and Analysis

Arcite returns to Palamon with food, drink and files. At first Paladon continues where he left off with the insults, but suddenly they just talk while eating and drinking wine, slipping easily into their beloved kinship. They begin reminiscing about the various women they have known when Palamon suddenly remembers Emilia and goes back on the offensive aggression again. Arcite prepares to leave again so he can bring more food and clothes and Palamon reminds him to bring swords as well. They will apparently fight a duel upon his return. It is very evident that their hearts are not in being deadly enemies. They so easily fall back into being the blood brothers we knew them to be before they saw Emilie. But then Palamon begins raging again and it becomes hard to predict what they will do when Arcite returns.

Act III

Scene iv

At night in the forest where the Jailer’s Daughter is

Enter the Jailer’s Daughter

I am very cold and all the stars are out too. The sun has seen my folly. Palamon, alas, no; he’s in heaven. Where am I now? Yonder’s the sea and there’s a ship. How it tumbles! And there’s a rock lies watching under water. Now it beats upon it. There’s a leak sprung, a sound one. How they cry! Good night, good night; you’re gone. I am very hungry. Would I could find a fine frog. He would tell me news from all parts of the world. Then would I sail to the King of Pygmies. Now my father, twenty to one, is trussed up in a trice tomorrow morning. I’ll never say a word.”

Summary and Analysis

The Jailer’s Daughter continues to wander throughout the forest, lost and cold. She sees a ship at sea and watches it crash upon a rock and sink. She immediately wishes that a frog would appear to tell her the news of the world. Was the ship real or a figment of her deteriorating state of mind? She then figures her father will hang tomorrow for Palamon having gone missing and she vows that she will never say a word about it. One must wonder if her prolonged condition of being cold, hungry and lost in the forest, all the while assuming Palamon has been devoured by wolves and her father will be killed in the morning for what she has done, has made her truly mad. The nonsensical song she sings at the end of the scene further suggests this may be the case.

Act III

Scene v

Elsewhere in the forest

Enter a schoolmaster, five Morris dancers and five wenches

Schoolmaster: “Fie, fie, what tediosity and disinsanity is here among ye! Have my rudiments been laboured so long with ye, and do you still cry ‘Where’ and How’ and ‘Wherefore’? You most course capacities, have I said “Thus let be’, and no man understands me? Ye are all dunces! For why here stand I; here the duke comes. The duke appears. I meet him, and unto him I utter learned things. He hears and then cries ‘Rare!’ and I go forward. At length I fling my cap up; mark there! Then do you break out before him. Like true lovers cast yourselves in a body decently and sweetly trace and turn.”

1 Countryman: “And sweetly we will do it, master.”

2 Countryman: “Where’s the tabor?”

Taborer: “Here, my mad boys; have at ye.”

Schoolmaster: “But I say, where’s their women?”

4 Countryman: “Here’s Friz and Maudlin.”

2 Countryman: “And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbery.”

1 Countryman: “And freckled Nell.”

Schoolmaster: “Where be your ribbons, maids? Swim with your bodies.”

Nell: “Let us alone, sir.”

Schoolmaster: “Where’s the rest of the music?”

3 Countryman: “Dispersed, as you commanded.”

Schoolmaster: “We have, as learned authors utter, laboured vainly. Our business has become a nullity.”

Enter Jailer’s Daughter singing non-sensibly

3 Countryman: “There’s a dainty madwoman, master, comes in the nick of time and as mad as a March hare. If we can get her to dance, we are made again. I warrant, she’ll do the rarest gambols.”

1 Countryman: “A mad woman? We are made, boys.”

Schoolmaster: “And are you mad, good woman?”

Jailer’s Daughter: “I would be sorry else. Give me your hand.”

Schoolmaster: “Why?”

Jailer’s Daughter: “I can tell your fortune. You are a fool. Friend, you must eat no white bread; if you do, your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we dance, ho? I know you. You are a tinker.”

Schoolmaster: “A tinker, damsel?”

Jailer’s Daughter: “Or a conjurer. Raise me a devil now, and let him play on the bells and bones.”

Schoolmaster: “Go, take her. Strike up and lead her in.” (the music plays)

2 Countryman: “Come lass, let’s trip it.”

Jailer’s Daughter: “I’ll lead.”

3 Countryman: Do, Do! (they dance)

Schoolmaster: “Persuasively and cunningly. Away boys. Mark your cues.”

Exit all but the schoolmaster

Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta and Emilia

Theseus: “This way the stag took.”

Schoolmaster: “Stay and edify.”

Theseus: “What have we here?”

Pirithous: “Some country sport, upon my life, sir.”

Theseus: “Well, sir, go forward. We will edify and we will stay it.”

Schoolmaster: “Thou valiant Duke, all hail! All hail, sweet ladies! If you but favour, we are a few of those collected here who ruder tongues distinguish ‘villager’, and to severity and not to fable, we’re a merry rout, or else a rabble, or company, or chorus, who before thy dignity will dance a Morris. And that I am the rectifier of all, and do present this frame; and dainty duke, help me, with thy twinkling eyes look right and straight upon this mighty Morris. I first appear to speak before thy noble grace. Next, the Lord of May and Lady bright; the chambermaid and servingman; then my host and his fat spouse who welcome the galled traveller, and with a beckoning informs the tapster to inflame the reckoning. Then the beast eating clown, and next the fool. Say ‘ay’ and all shall presently advance.”

Theseus: “Ay, ay, by any means.”

Pirithous: ” Produce!”

Schoolmaster: “Come forth! Duke, if we have pleased thee too and have done as good boys should do, give us but a tree or twain for a maypole, and again ere another year run out, we’ll make thee laugh and all this rout.”

Theseus: “How does my sweetheart?”

Hippolyta: “Never so pleased, sir.”

Emilia: “Twas an excellent dance, and for a preface, I never heard better.”

Theseus: “Schoolmaster, I thank you. See them all rewarded.”

Pirithous gives money

Theseus: “Now to our sports again.”

Schoolmaster: “May the stag thou hunts stand long and thy dogs be swift and strong.”

Exit Theseus and his party

Schoolmaster: “Come, we are all made. Ye have danced rarely, wenches.”

Summary and Analysis

In this scene of pure comic relief, the schoolmaster is flustered because the show he intends for the duke and his court is not well prepared and a dancer is missing. Just then the Jailer’s Daughter appears and she is evidently mad but the group decides they can use her and her dancing will be inspired. When the schoolmaster speaks with her the madness is definitively confirmed and the troupe believes she will make a perfect Morris dancer. Theseus and his family arrive and the players begin. The royal family thoroughly enjoys the performance and the players are generously rewarded. Aside from comic relief, this scene confirms our suspicion that the Jailer’s daughter has been rendered mad by her ordeal of freeing Palamon from prison. She has been famished and lost for days in the forest, believing the man she loves has been devoured by wolves and that her innocent father will be put to death for allowing Palamon to escape. Shakespeare weaves her into this scene with comic perfection.

Act III

Scene vi

In the forest where Palamon remains

Enter Palamon

Palamon: “About this hour my cousin gave his faith to visit me again and with him bring two swords and two good armours; if he fail, he’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me, I did not think a week could have restored my lost strength to me, I was grown so low with my wants. I thanks thee, Arctic; thou art yet a fair foe. To delay it longer would make the world think that I am not a soldier. Therefore, this blessed morning shall be the last, and that sword, if it but hold, I kill him with; tis justice. So love and fortune for me!”

Enter Arcite with armours and swords

Arcite: “Good morrow, noble kinsman.”

Palamon: “I have put you to too much pains, sir.”

Arcite: “That too much, fair cousin, is but a debt to honour, and my duty.”

Palamon: “Would you were so in all, sir; I could wish ye as a kinsman, as you force me find a beneficial foe, that my embraces might thank ye, not my blows.”

Arcite: “I shall think either well done.”

Palamon: “Then I shall quit you.”

Arcite: “Defy me in these fair terms, and you show more than a mistress to me. We were not bred to talk, man. When we are armed and both upon our guards, then let our fury, like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us, and then to whom the birthright of this beauty truly pertains will be seen, and quickly, yours or mine. Will it please you to arm, sir? Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet and furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay, cousin, and every day discourse you into health. Your person I am friends with, and I could wish I had not said I loved her, but loving such a lady, and justifying my love, I must not fly from it.”

Palamon: “Arcite, thou are so brave an enemy that no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee. I am well and lusty. Choose your arms.”

Arcite: “Choose you, sir, for as I am a soldier, I will not spare you.”

Palamon: “That’s well said. Then as I am an honest man and love with all the justice of affection, I’ll pay thee soundly. This I’ll take.” (chooses arms)

Arcite: “That’s mine then. I’ll arm you first.”

Palamon: “Do. Pray thee tell me, cousin, where got thou this good armour?”

Arcite: “Tis the duke’s, and to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?”

Palamon: “No.”

Arcite: “Is it not too heavy?”

Palamon: “I shall make it serve.”

Arcite: “I’ll buckle it close.”

Palamon: “Good cousin, thrust the buckle through far enough.”

Arcite: “Will you fight bare armed?”

Palamon: “We shall be the nimbler.”

Arcite: “But use your gauntlets though. Prithee, take mine.”

Palamon: “Thank you, Arcite. How do I look?”

Arcite: “Faith, love has used you kindly.”

Palamon: “I’ll warrant thee, I’ll strike home.”

Arcite: “Do, and spare not. I’ll give you cause, sweet cousin.”

Palamon: “Now to you, sir. Methinks this armour’s very much like that thou wore the day the three kings fell, but lighter.”

Arcite: “That was a very good one; and that day, I well remember, you outdid me, cousin. I never saw such valour: when you charged upon the left wing of the enemy I spurred hard to come up, and under me I had a right good horse, but all was vainly laboured in me; you outwent me. Yet a little I did by imitation.”

Palamon: “More by virtue; you are modest, Cousin.

Arcite: “When I saw you charge first, methought I heard a dreadful clip of thunder.”

Palamon: “But still before that flew the lightning of your valour. Stay a little; is not this piece too tight?”

Arcite: “No, no; tis well.”

Palamon: “I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword; a bruise would be dishonour.”

Arcite: “Take my sword; I hold it better.”

Palamon: “I thank ye – no, keep it; your life lies on it. My cause and honour guard me!”

Arcite: “And me my love! Is there aught else to say?”

Palamon: “This only and no more: thou art my aunt’s son and that blood we desire to shed is mutual – in me, thine, and in thee, mine. If you kill me, the gods and I forgive thee. If there be a place prepared for those who sleep in honour, I wish his weary soul who falls may win it. Fight bravely cousin. Give me thy noble hand.”

Arcite: “Here, Palamon. This hand shall never more come near thee with such friendship.”

Palamon: “I commend thee.”

Arcite: “If I fall, curse me and say I was a coward, for none but such dare die in these just trials. Once more, farewell, my cousin.”

Palamon: “Farewell, Arcite.”

They fight but then hear horns from the duke’s train

Arcite: “Lo, cousin. Our folly has outdone us.”

Palamon: “Why?”

Arcite: “This is the duke a-hunting, as I told you. If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire for honour’s sake and safety into your bush again. Gentle cousin, if you be seen you perish instantly for breaking prison, and I, if you reveal me, for my contempt. Then all the world will scorn us.”

Palamon: “No, no, cousin, I will no more be hidden nor put off this great adventure to a second trial. I know your cunning and I know your cause. He who faints now, shame take him! Put thyself upon thy present guard.”

Arcite: “Are you not mad?”

Palamon: “Or I will make advantage of this hour my own. Know, weak cousin, I love Emilia, and in that I’ll bury thee.”

Arcite: “Then come what can come, thou shall know, Palamon, I dare as well die as discourse or sleep. Have at thy life.”

They fight again

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia and Pirithous

Theseus: “What ignorant and mad malicious traitors are you who against the tenor of my laws are making battle? By Castor, both shall die.”

Palamon: “Hold thy word, Theseus. We are certainly both traitors, both despisers of thy goodness. I am Palamon, he who broke thy prison – think well what that deserves – and this is Arcite. A bolder traitor never trod thy ground, a falser never seemed friend. This is the man who was begged and banished; and in this disguise against thy own edicts follows thy sister – that fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia – whose servant justly I am, and, which is more, dares think her his. This treachery I call him now to answer. If thou be as thou are spoken, great and virtuous, the true decider of all injuries, say ‘fight again’, and thou shall see me, Theseus, do such a justice thyself will envy. Then take my life; I’ll woo thee to it.”

Pirithous: “What more than man is this?”

Arcite: “We seek not thy breath of mercy, Theseus. Where this man calls me traitor, let me say thus much: if in love be treason, in service of so excellent a beauty, as I love most, and in that faith will perish, as I have brought my life here to confirm it, as I have served her truest, worthiest, as I dare kill this cousin who denies it, let me be most traitor. For scorning thy edict, duke, ask that lady why her eyes command me to stay here and love her, and if she say ‘traitor’, I am a villain fit to lie unburied.”

Palamon: “Thou shall have pity of us both, O Theseus, if unto neither thou show mercy. Stop, as thou are just, thy noble ear against us. Let us die together at one instant, duke. Only a little let him fall before me that I may tell my soul he shall not have her.”

Theseus: “I grant your wish, for, to say true, your cousin has ten times more offended, for I gave him more mercy than you found, sir, your offences being no more than his. None here speak for them, for ere the sun set both shall sleep forever.”

Hippolyta: “Alas the pity! Now or never, sister, speak, not to be denied. That face of yours will bear the curses else of after ages for these lost cousins.”

Emilia: “Dear sister, the misadventure of their own eyes kill em. Yet that I will be woman and have pity. My knees shall grow to the ground but I’ll get mercy. (she kneels). Help me, dear sister; in a deed so virtuous the powers of all women will be with us. (Hippolyta kneels) Most royal brother -“

Hippolyta: “Sir, by our tie of marriage -“

Emilia: “By your own spotless honour -“

Hippolyta: “By that faith, that fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me -“

Emilia: “By that you would have pity in another, by your own virtues infinite -“

Hippolyta: “By valour, by all the chaste nights I have ever pleased you -“

Theseus: “These are strange conjurings.”

Pirithous: “Nay then, I’ll in too. (he kneels) By all our friendships, by all you love most, wars and this sweet lady -“

Emilia: “By that you would have trembled to deny a blushing maid -“

Hippolyta: “By your own eyes, by strength, in which you swore I went beyond all women, almost all men, Theseus -“

Pirithous: “To crown all this: by your most noble soul, I beg first -“

Hippolyta: “Next hear my prayers -“

Emilia: “Last let me entreat, sir -“

Pirithous: “For mercy.”

Hippolyta: “Mercy.”

Emilia: “Mercy on these princes.”

Theseus: “Ye make my faith reel. Say I felt compassion to em both, how would you place it?”

Emilia: “Upon their lives.”

Theseus: “You are a right woman, sister. If you desire their lives, invent a way safer than banishment. Can these two live and have the agony of love about em and not kill one another? Every day they’d fight about you, hourly bring your honour in public question with their swords. Be wise then and here forget them. I have said they die; better they fall by the law than one another.”

Emilie: “O my noble brother, that oath was rashly made and in your anger; your reason will not hold it. If such vows stand for express will, all the world must perish. Beside, I have another oath against yours, of more authority, I am sure more love, not made in passion neither but good heed.”

Theseus: “What is it sister?”

Pirithous: “Urge it home, brave lady.”

Emilia: “That you would never deny me anything fit for my modest suit and your free granting. I tie you to your word now. If you fail in it, think how you maim your honour. Now I am set-a-begging, sir, and I am deaf to all but your compassion. Shall anyone who loves me perish for me? That were a cruel wisdom. O, Duke Theseus, the goodly mothers who have groaned for these and all the longing maids who ever loved, if your vow stands, shall curse me and my beauty, and in their funeral songs for these two cousins despise my cruelty and cry woe till I am nothing but the scorn of women. For heaven’s sake, save their lives and banish them.”

Theseus: “On what conditions?”

Emilia: “Swear them never more to make me their contention or to know me, to tread upon thy dukedom, and to be, wherever they shall travel, ever strangers to one another.”

Palamon: “I’ll be cut to pieces before I take this oath. Forget I love her? O, all th gods despise me then. Never trifle, but take our lives, duke. I must love and will, and for that love must and dare kill this cousin on any piece the earth has.”

Theseus: “Will you, Arcite, take these conditions?”

Palamon: “He is a villain then.”

Piritheus: “These are men!”

Arcite: “No, never, duke. Though I think I shall never enjoy her, yet I’ll preserve the honour of affection and die for her, make death a devil.”

Theseus: “What may be done? For now I feel compassion.”

Pirithous: “Let it not fall again, sir.”

Theseus: “Say, Emilia, if one of them were dead, as one must, are you content to take the other to your husband? They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes as goodly as your own eyes and as noble as ever fame yet spoke of; look upon them, and, if you can love, end this difference. I give consent. Are you content too, princes?”

Both: “With all our souls.”

Theseus: “He who she refuses must die then.”

Both: “Any death thou can invent, Duke.”

Palamon: “If I fall from the mouth, I fall with favour, and lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes.”

Arcite: “If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me and soldiers sing my epitaph.

Theseus: “Make choice then.”

Emilia: “I cannot, sir they are both too excellent. For me, a hair shall never fall of these men.”

Hippolyta: “What will become of them?”

Theseus: “Thus I ordain it, by my honour, or both shall die. You should both to your country, and each within this month, appear again in this place, in which I’ll place a pyramid; and whether, before us who are here, can force his cousin by fair and knightly strength to touch the pillar, he shall enjoy her, the other lose his head. Will this content you?”

Palamon: “Yes. Here, cousin Arcite. (offers his hand) I am friends again till that hour.”

Arcite: “I embrace thee.”

Theseus: “Are you content, sister?”

Emilia: “Yes, I must, sir, else both miscarry.”

Theseus: “As you are gentlemen this quarrel sleeps till the hour prefixed.”

Palamon: “We dare not fail thee, Theseus.”

Summary and Analysis

This scene is almost farcical, as these cousins who clearly love each other prepare to fight to the death over Emilia. Arcite returns to the woods with swords and armour for a duel with Palamon, who says that he wishes Arcite ‘would be as honourable a kinsman as he is a foe’. The cousins choose their weapons and reminisce warmly about their past battles fought together all the while helping each other put on their armour. They shake hands and prepare to fight when a horn is heard marking the approach of Theseus and his train. Arcite instructs Palamon to conceal himself in the bushes, since Theseus will likely put him to death for escaping prison. Palamon thinks that would appear cowardly and he commences the duel with his cousin. Theseus abruptly orders the cousins to stop their fight and Palamon comes clean to him about his entire story as well as that of Arcite. He pleads with Theseus to allow him to dispatch Arcite and then says he will beg Theseus to kill him, Palamon, immediately. Arcite denies he is a traitor and asks Theseus to verify this with Emilia, who he loves. Palamon insists they are both traitors and asks that they both be dispatched, Arcite just before Palamon so that he could witness Arcite’s traitorous death. Theseus agrees that they both should die. But then, once again, the women speak up and appeal for mercy. Emilia and Hippolyta alternately pepper Theseus with their plea to spare the cousins on behalf of all women, suggesting that the fairer sex are generally more merciful and reasonable than men. However, just then Pirithous chimes in with his support of their appeal. Theseus finally inquires of Emilia just what she is suggesting and she supports mere banishment. Theseus believes if he agrees to do this the cousins will merely slaughter each other at first opportunity. Emilia finally pulls out her trump card, reminding Theseus of the earlier oath he made ‘to never deny Emilia anything.” She believes that the death of these cousins will sully her reputation. She asks Theseus to spare their lives on the condition they not fight over her, never again interfere in Theseus’ kingdom and remain strangers to one another. But the cousins themselves reject this solution, maintaining their love for Emilia. Theseus’ next suggestion is that Emilia chooses one of the cousins for her husband and the other must die. Although the cousins wholeheartedly agree, Emilia cannot accept that responsibility. Finally Theseus declares that they two cousins may return home for a month and when they come back Theseus will have built a pyramid on their duel site and whichever one can force the other to touch the structure first may wed Emilia and be honoured throughout the kingdom while the other will be put to death. Emilia hesitates but agrees. Earlier in the play Emilia expressed no interest whatsoever in marriage but now feels responsible enough for this entire ordeal that she relents and agrees to marry the victor. Wheh! Now back to the poor mad daughter of the seemingly condemned jailer.

Act IV

Scene i

In the prison

Enter The Jailer and his friend

Jailer: “Heard you no more? Was nothing said of me concerning the escape of Palamon?”

1 Friend: “Nothing that I heard. Yet I must perceive ere I departed a great likelihood of both their pardons, for Hippolyta and fair-eyed Emilia upon their knees begged with such handsome pity that the duke methought stood staggering whether he should follow his rash oath or the sweet compassion of those two ladies. And the noble prince, Pirithous, set in too, that I hope all shall be well. Neither heard I one question of your name or his escape.”

Enter 2 Friend

Jailer: “Pray heaven it hold so.”

2 Friend: “Be of good comfort, man. I bring you news – good news.”

Jailer: “They are welcome.”

2 Friend: “Palamon has cleared you and got your pardon, and discovered how and by whose means he escaped, which was your daughter’s, whose pardon is procured too. The prisoners have their lives, but there be new conditions, which you will hear of at a better time.”

Enter Wooer

Wooer: “Alas sir, where is your daughter? When did you see her?”

Jailer: “This morning.”

Wooer: “Was she well?”

Jailer: “I do not think she was very well; for the very day I asked her questions, and she answered me so far from what she was, so childishly, so sillily, as if she were a fool, an innocent.”

Wooer: “Tis true. She is mad.”

1 Friend: “It cannot be.”

Wooer: “I believe you’ll find it so.”

Jailer: “I half suspected what you told me. Either this was her love to Palamon or fear of my miscarrying on his escape, or both.”

Wooer: “Tis likely. As I late was angling in this Great Lake that lies behind the palace, from the far shore I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive I gave my ear and saw that it was your daughter. I heard her repeat this often: ‘Palamon is gone, is gone to the wood to gather mulberries; I’ll find him out tomorrow. His shackles will betray him; he’ll be taken, and what shall I do then? I’ll bring a hundred black-eyed maids who love as I do, and we’ll dance an antic before the duke and beg his pardon.’ Then she talked of you, sir – that you must lose your head tomorrow morning, and she must gather flowers to bury you. And then she wept and sung and sighed, and with the same breath smiled and kissed her hand. She slipped away far from me. Then three or four I saw from far off cross her – one of them I knew to be your brother. I left them with her and hither came to tell you. Here they are.”

Enter Jailer’s brother and daughter

Daughter: (singing) “May you never more enjoy the light. Is not this a fine song?”

Brother: “O, a very fine one.”

Daughter: “I can sing twenty more.”

Brother: “I think you can.”

Daughter: “Yes, truly can I. Are you not a tailor?”

Brother: “Yes.”

Daughter: “Where’s my wedding gown?”

Brother: “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Daughter: “For I must lose my maidenhead by cocklight. Good evening, good men. Pray, did you ever hear of one young Palamon?”

Jailer: “Yes, wench, we know him.”

Daughter: “Is he not a fine young gentleman?”

Jailer: “Tis, love.”

Brother: “By no means cross her; she is then distempered far worse than now she shows.”

1 Friend: “Yes, he’s a fine man.”

Daughter: “O, is he so? You have a sister?”

1 Friend: “Yes.”

Daughter: “But she shall never have him; tell her so. You’d best look to her, for if she sees him once, she’s gone; she’s done and undone in an hour. All the young maids of our town are in love with him, but I laugh at them and let them all alone. Is it not a wise course.”

1 Friend: “Yes.”

Daughter: “There are at least two hundred now with child by him – there must be four.”

2 Friend: “This is strange.”

Brother: “As ever you heard, but say nothing.”

1 Friend: “No”.

Daughter: “They come from all parts of the dukedom for him. I’ll warrant ye, he had not so few last night as twenty to dispatch.”

Jailer: “She’s lost. Past all cure.”

Brother “Heaven forbid, man.”

Daughter: (to jailer) “Come hither. You are a wise man?”

1 Friend: “Does she know him?”

2 Friend: “No. Would she did.”

Daughter: “You are master of a ship?”

Jailer: “Yes.”

Daughter: “Where’s your compass?”

Jailer: “Here.”

Daughter: “Set it to the north, and now direct your course to the woods where Palamon lies longing for me. Come. The wind is fair. Top the bowline; out with the mainsai! Where’s your whistle, master?”

Brother: “Let’s get her in.”

Daughter: “Bear for it, master. Tack about!”

Summary and Analysis

The jailer enquires from his friends of any news they may have about Palamon’s escape or his own fate. One friend explains that Theseus has pardoned both cousins thanks to the pleas from Hippolyta, Emilia and Pirithous. Then a second friend reports that Palamon has vindicated the Jailer by telling him that it was the Jailer’s daughter who orchestrated the escape. She too will be pardoned and Palamon will offer her a dowry for helping him get free from the prison. In this way Palamon commits an honourable deed, even though he won’t give her what she wants most of all: him. The wooer arrives as one intent on wooing the daughter, regardless of her infatuation with Palamon. He tells everyone assembled that he encountered the daughter and that she was speaking nonsense and singing strange songs about Palamon. He noticed that she encountered several men, including one who was the jailer’s brother. The daughter then arrives with the brother, singing and speaking nonsense about having to lose her virgnity by the next day. She insists that hundreds of women are in love with Palamon and that he has impregnated 200 of them. Yet she believes he waits for only her now in the woods. The jailer’s daughter is clearly mad at this point.  She seems to not recognize her own father, perhaps due to the guilt of risking his life by helping Palamon to escape. As Act 4 commences, we witness the first signs of a reconciliation of plot, with news that the cousins, the jailer and his daughter have all been pardoned. And yet much remains to be resolved.

Act IV

Scene ii

The Palace

Enter Emilia with two pictures

Emilia: “Yet I may bind those wounds up that must open and bleed to death for my sake else. I’ll choose and end their strife… two such young, handsome men shell never fall for me; their weeping mothers, following the dead cold ashes of their sons, shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven, what a sweet face has Arcite! If wise nature were here a mortal woman, yet doubtless she would run mad for this man. What an eye, of what a fiery sparkle and quick sweetness, has this young prince! Here love itself sits smiling. What a brow, of what a spacious majesty he carries, arched like the great-eyed Juno, but far sweeter. Palamon is but his foil, to him a mere dull shadow. He’s swart and meagre, of an eye as heavy, as if he had lost his mother, a still temper, no alacrity, of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile. Yet these that we count errors may become him; Narcissus was a sad boy but heavenly. O, who can find the bent of woman’s fancy? I am a fool, my reason is lost in me, I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly that women ought to beat me. I am sotted, utterly lost. My virgin’s faith has fled me. Now, come ask me, brother. Alas, I know not. Ask me now, sweet sister. I may go look. What a mere child is fancy, that having two fair pretty things of equal sweetness cannot distinguish but must cry for both.”

Enter Gentleman

Emilia: “How now, sir?”

Gentleman: “From the noble duke your brother, madam, I bring you news. The knights are come.”

Emilia: “To end the quarrel?”

Gentleman: “Yes.”

Emilia: “Would I might end first. What sins have I committed, chaste Diana, that my unspotted youth must now be soiled with blood of princes and my chastity be made the altar where the lives of lovers – two greater and two better never yet made mothers joy – must be the sacrifice to my unhappy beauty?”

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta and Pirithous

Theseus: “Bring them in quickly, by any means; I long to see them. Your two contending lovers have returned and with them their fair knights. Now my fair sister, you must love one of them.”

Emilia: “I had rather both, so neither for my sake should fall untimely.”

Theseus: “You shall see men fight now, Hippolyta.”

Hippolyta: “I wish it, but not the cause, my lord. Tis pity love should be so tyrannous. O, my soft-hearted sister, what think you? Weep not till they weep blood. Wench, it must be.” 

Theseus: “You have steeled them with your beauty.”

Emilia: (aside) “Poor wench, go weep, for whosoever wins loses a noble cousin for your sins.”

Summary and Analysis

Emilia holds two portraits of the princes and wishes to choose one of them but also somehow prevent them from killing one another. She passionately praises them both and curses herself for her inability to choose between them. Could it be because she loves women, as clearly expressed in Act I, Scene III? Or perhaps because the two cousin love each other so? When she looks to the heavens for guidance it is Diana she appeals to, the chaste Goddess of virginity. The cousins arrive a month later, as arranged, although they could have chosen their love for each other and not returned specifically for one of them to kill the other over Emilia. Theseus tells Emilia that the cousins have steeled themselves over her beauty and orders the battlefield be prepared for the fight. Emilia is truly distraught over her complicity in this combat of cousins, in which she feels there can be no winner, since the victor will vanquish his own beloved kinsman.

Act IV

Scene iii

The Prison

Enter Jailer, Wooer and Doctor

Doctor: “Her distraction is more at some time of the moon than other, is it not?”

Jailer: “She is continually in a harmless distemper, sleeps little; dreaming of another world and a better; and what broken piece of matter so ever she’s about, Palamon is worked into it. (enter daughter) Look where she comes; you shall perceive her behaviour.”

Daughter: “I have forgot it quite. The burden on it was penned by no worse a man than Emilia’s schoolmaster.  In the next world will Dido see Palamon, and then she will be out of love with Aeneas.”

Doctor: “What stuff’s here? Poor soul.”

Jailer: “Even thus, all day long.”

Daughter: “Now for this charm that I told you of, you must bring a piece of silver on the tip of your tongue or no ferry.”

Doctor: “How prettily she’s amiss! Note her a little further.”

Daughter: “Faith, I’ll tell you. Sometimes we go to barley-break, we of the blessed. Alas, tis a sore life they have in the other place – such burning, frying, boiling, hissing, howling, chattering, cursing. Take heed. If one be mad or hang or drown themselves, thither they go, Jupiter bless us, and there shall we be put in a cauldron of lead, and there boils like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough.”

Doctor: “How her brain coins.”

Daughter: “Lords and courtiers who have got maids with child, they are in this place; they shall stand in fire up to the navel and in ice up to the heart, and there the offending part burns and the deceiving part freezes – in truth, a very grievous punishment, as one would think, for such a trifle. Believe me, one would marry a leprous witch to be rid of it, I assure you.”

Doctor: “How she continues this fancy! Tis not an engraved madness but a most thick and profound melancholy.”

Daughter: “To hear there a proud lady and a proud city wife howl together! I were a beast I would call it good sport. One cries ‘O, that ever I did it behind the arras’, and then howls.”

Jailer: “What think you of her, sir?”

Doctor: “I think she has a perturbed mind., which I cannot minister to.”

Jailer: “Alas, what then?”

Doctor: “Understand you she ever affected any man ere she beheld Palamon?”

Jailer: “I was once, sir, in great hope she had fixed her liking on this gentleman, my friend.”

Wooer: “I did think so too.”

Doctor: “This intemperate surfeit of her eye has distempered the other senses. They may return and settle again to execute their preordained faculties, but they are now in a most extravagant vagary. This you must do: confine her to a place where the light may rather seem to steal in than be permitted. Take upon you, young sir her friend, the name of Palamon; say you come to eat with her and to commune of love. This will catch her attention, for this her mind beats upon. Sing to her such green songs of love as she says Palamon has sung in prison. All this shall become Palamon. It is a falsehood she is in, which is with falsehoods to be combatted. I have seen it approved, how many times I know not, but to make the number more, I have great hope in this. Let us put it in execution and hasten the success, which, doubt not, will bring forth comfort.”

Summary and Analysis

The scene opens with the doctor asking the Jailer about his daughter, who appears totally discombobulated in a fantasy world of her unreciprocated love for Palamon. The daughter appears and there seems to be a method to her madness. She refers to the schoolmaster who included her in the wooded Morris Dance and seems to reconcile with not having Palamon in this life but envisioning them together in the afterlife. She describes a vivid portrait of hell and the suffering of the people condemned there. The doctor concludes that her affliction is not so much madness but melancholy. We learn that before Palamon the Wooer and the Jailer’s daughter shared a love, one that the wooer wishes he could re-awaken. The doctor suggests the wooer impersonate Palamon, share a meal with the daughter and declare his love for her. His theory is that they should confront her fantasies with additional fantasies. ’Falsehoods are to be combatted with falsehoods.’ He had had great success with this approach before and is hopeful it will work again in this instance. This is a comedy, after all, and while not all the principles will survive it, a cheerful resolution should prevail as much as possible, so we can only hope the doctor is correct in his assessment and treatment of the Jailer’s Daughter, as we return to the kinsmen and commence Act V

Act V

Scene i

On the battlefield

Enter Theseus, Pirithous and Hippolyta

Theseus: “Now let them enter and before the gods tender their holy prayers. They have noble work at hand.”

Pirithous: “Sir, they enter.”

Enter Palamon and Arcite with their knights

Theseus: “You valiant and strong hearted enemies that this day come to blow that nearness out that flames between you, lay by your anger for an hour and dove-like before the holy altars, bow down your stubborn bodies. Your ire is more than mortal; so your help be, and as the gods regard you, fight with justice. I’ll leave you to your prayers.”

Pirithous: “Honour crown the worthiest!”

Exit Theseus and his train

Palamon: “The glass is running now that cannot finish till one of us expire. Think you but thus: that were there aught in me which strove to show my enemy in this business, were it one eye against another, arm oppressed by arm, I would destroy the offender, coz – I would – though parcel of myself. Then from this gather how I should tender you.”

Arcite: “I am in labour to push your name, your ancient love, our kindred, out of my memory, and in the self-same place to seat something I would confound. So hoist we the sails that must these vessels port even where the heavenly limiter pleases.”

Palamon: “You speak well. Before I turn, let me embrace thee, cousin.” (They embrace). “This shall I never do again.”

Arcite: “One farewell.”

Palamon: “Why let it be so. Farewell, Coz.”

Arcite: “Farewell, sir.”

Exit Palamon and his knights

Arcite: “Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, true worshippers of Mars, whose spirit expels the seeds of fear and the apprehension which still is father of it, go with me. There require of him the hearts of lions and the breathe of tigers, yea, the fierceness too, yea, the speed also – to go on, I mean, else wish we to be snails. You know my prize must be dragged out of blood. Force and great feat must put my garland on me. Our intercession then must be to him who makes the camp a cistern brimmed with the blood of men. Give me your aid and bend your spirits toward him.” (They fall prostate, then kneel). “Thou mighty one whose approach comets prewarn and whose havoc in vast fields unearthed skulls proclaim: me, thy pupil, instruct this day with military skill, that I may advance and by thee be styled the lord of the day. Give me, great Mars, some token of thy pleasure.” (Here there is heard clanging of armour, with thunder) “O great corrector of enormous times, shaker of over-rank states, thou grand decider of dusty old titles, who heals with blood the earth when it is sick and cures the world of the pleurisy of people. I do take thy signs auspiciously and in thy name to my design march boldly – let us go.

Exit Arcite and his knights

Enter Palamon and his knights

Palamon: “Our stars must glister with new fire or be today extinct; our argument is love. To the goddess Venus commend we our proceeding.” (They kneel) “Hail, sovereign queen of secrets who has power to call the fiercest tyrant from his rage and weep unto a girl, who has the might even with an eye-glance to choke mar’s drum and to turn the alarm to whispers; who may force the king to be his subject’s vassal and induce stale gravity to dance: what godlike power has thou not power upon? Take to thy grace me, thy avowed soldier. I have never been foul-mouth against the law, and never revealed secrets, for I knew none. I never practiced upon man’s wife nor would the libels read of liberal wits. Yea, him I do not love who tells close offices the foulest way nor names concealments in the boldest language. Such a one I am and vow that lover never yet made sigh truer than I. O then, most soft, sweet goddess, give me the victory of this question, which is true love’s merit, and bless me with a sign of thy great pleasure.” (Here music is heard and doves are seen to flutter) “O thou who from eleven to ninety reigns in mortal bosoms, I give thee thanks and arm in assurance my body to this business. Let us rise and bow before the goddess. Time come on.”

Exit Palamon and his knights

Enter Emilia, in white and wearing a wreath, with her maids

Emilia: “O sacred and constant queen, Diana, abandoner of revels, mute contemplative, sweet, solitary, I here, thy priest, am humbled before thy altar. O vouchsafe, look upon thy virgin; and, sacred mistress, lend thy ear, into whose port never entered wanton sound – to my petition, seasoned with holy fear. This is my last of vestal office. I am bride-habited but maiden-hearted. A husband I have pointed, but do not know him. Out of two I should choose one and pray for his success, but I am guiltless of election. Of my eyes, were I to lose one – they are equal precious – I could doom neither. Therefore, most modest queen, he of the two pretenders, who best loves me, let him take off my garland or else grant the quality I hold I may continue in thy band. If well inspired, this battle shall confound both these brave knights, and I, a virgin flower, must grow alone, unpacked.” (Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments, as a rose falls from a tree) ”The flower is fallen – O mistress, thou here discharges me. I shall be gathered, I think. I hope she’s pleased; her signs were gracious.”

Exit Emilia and her maids

Summary and Analysis

Theseus arranges for the two kinsmen to pray before the gods before they finally settle their dispute once and for all. The humans have done all they can. It is now in the hands of the gods. Palamon assures Arcite that were there the slightest bit of him that were reluctant to enter combat with Arcite, he would cut that piece out of himself, suggesting perhaps that although he may be somewhat hesitant, he will not alter his course. Arcite, on the other hand, does his very best to forget the kinship and love they have shared, so that he too can carry on toward this seemingly senseless slaughter. They hug for the very last time and part to pray to their separate gods. Arcite kneels before the altar of Mars, the Roman god of war, and asks for a sign of his approval. Mars responds with thunder and the clanging of arms, convincing Arcite of the justification for his participation in the duel. Palamon prays to Venus, the goddess of love, for support. ’Our argument is love’ he declares, as it is his devotion to Emilia that brings him to combat his cousin. He appeals to the power of the goddess to persuade events, just as earlier the female characters of Emilia and Hippolyta appealed to mighty Theseus for mercy and understanding. Venus offers a sign of her indulgence with the sound of music and the fluttering of doves. Both kinsmen feel honoured by their respective gods. Palamon, more the aggressor, has made his case before the altar of love, and Arcite, the more reconciliatory of the cousins, has fortified himself with the support of the god of war. After the knights have departed Emilia arrives before the altar of Diana, the virgin goddess of the hunt. She speaks to Diana her final prayer as a virgin, asking for guidance determining the knight who loves her most and will thus remove her garland / virginity. A rose tree appears with thorny roses, a bloody presage, she fears, that both knights will perish in their imminent battle and hence she will remain an ‘unpicked flower’, which nonetheless pleases her: ‘I am bride-habited but maid-hearted’. But just then music is heard and a rose falls to the ground, a portent, she believes, of an inevitable marriage to whichever knight is victorious. It is not a fate she freely chooses, but one she necessarily accepts. Of all the main characters it seems only the victorious knight will choose his fate, as the other must die, Emilia will reluctantly consent to marriage and the Jailer’s Daughter is rendered mad by rejection. Yet, again, this is a comedy and there remain three scenes and an epilogue.

Act V

Scene ii

In the Prison

Enter the doctor, Jailer and the Wooer, in the habit of Palamon

Doctor: “Has this advise I gave you done any good upon her?”

Wooer: “O, very much. The maids who kept her company have half persuaded her that I am Palamon. Within this half-hour she came smiling to me and asked me when I would kiss her. I told her presently and kissed her twice.”

Doctor: “Twas well done; twenty times would have been far better, for there the cure lies mainly. Do anything – lie with her if she asks you.”

Jailer: “Ho there, doctor!”

Doctor: “Yes, in the way of cure.”

Jailer: “But first in the way of honesty.”

Doctor: “That’s but a niceness; never cast your child away for honesty. Cure her first this way. Then if she will be honest, she has the path before her.”

Jailer: “Thank you, doctor.”

Doctor: “Pray bring her in and let’s see how she is.”

Jailer: “I will tell her that Palamon stays for her. But doctor, methinks you are in the wrong still.”

Exit the jailer

Doctor: “Go, go. You fathers are fine fools. Her honesty? We should give her physic till we find that!”

Wooer: “Why, do you think she is not honest, sir?”

Doctor: “How old is she?”

Wooer: “She is eighteen.”

Doctor: “She may be, but tis nothing to our purpose. Whatever her father says, if you perceive her mood inclining that way I spoke of, the way of the flesh – do you have me?”

Wooer: “Yes, very well, sir.”

Doctor: “Please her appetite. It cures her and the melancholy humour that infects her.”

Wooer: “I am of your mind, doctor.”

Doctor: “You’ll find it so.”

Enter Jailer and his daughter, mad

Doctor: “She comes; pray humour her.”

Jailer: “Come, your love, Palamon, stays for you, child.”

Daughter: “I thank him for his gentle patience.. He’s a kind gentleman, and I am much bound to him. Did you ever see the horse he gave me?”

Jailer: “Yes.”

Daughter: “How did you like him?”

Jailer: “He’s a very fair one.”

Daughter: “Did you ever see him dance?”

Jailer: “No.”

Daughter: “I have, often. He dances very finely, and for a jig, he turns like a top. He’ll dance the Morris twenty miles an hour and he gallops to the tune of ‘Light of Love’. What think you of this horse?”

Jailers: “Having these virtues I think he might be brought to play tennis.”

Daughter: “Alas, that’s nothing.”

Jailer: “Can he read and write too?”

Daughter: “A very fair hand, and casts himself the accounts of all his hay and corn. Do you know the chestnut mare the duke has?”

Jailer: “Very well.”

Daughter: “She is horribly in love with him, poor beast, but he is coy and scornful.”

Jailer: “What dowry has she?”

Daughter: “Some two-hundred bushel of oats, but he’ll never have her. He’ll be the death of her.”

Doctor: “What stuff she utters!”

Jailer: “Make curtsy; here your love comes.”

Wooer: “Pretty soul, how do you?” (she curtsies)

Daughter: “Yours to command in the way of honesty. How far is it now to the end of the world, my masters?”

Doctor: “Why, a day’s journey, wench.”

Daughter: “Will you go with me?”

Wooer: “I am content, if we should keep our wedding there.”

Daughter; “Tis true, for there we shall find some blind priest for the purpose that will venture to marry us, for here they are nice and foolish. Besides, my father must be hanged tomorrow. Are you not Palamon?”

Wooer: “Do not you know me?”

Daughter: “Yes, but you care not for me.”

Wooer: “I will have you.”

Daughter: “Will you surely?”

Wooer: “Yes, by this fair hand, will I.”

Daughter: “We’ll to be then.”

Wooer: “Even when you will.” (he kisses her)

Daughter: “Is not this your cousin Arcite?”

Doctor: “Yes, sweetheart, and I am glad my cousin Palamon has made so fair a choice.”

Daughter: “Do you think he’ll have me?”

Doctor: “Yes, without doubt.”

Daughter: “We shall have many children.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “What do you here? You’ll lose the noblest sight that ever was seen.”

Jailer: “Are they in the field?”

Messenger: “They are.”

Jailer: “I’ll straight away.” (to doctor) “How did you like her?”

Doctor: “I’ll warrant you, within these three or four days I’ll make her right again. (to The Wooer) You mustn’t from her, but still preserve her in this way.”

Wooer: “I will.” (to daughter) “Come, sweet, we’ll go to dinner, and then we’ll play at cards.”

Daughter: “And shall we kiss too?”

Wooer: “A hundred times.”

Daughter: “And then we’ll sleep together.”

Wooer: “Yes, marry, we will.”

Daughter: “But you shall not hurt me.”

Wooer: “I will not, sweet.”

Daughter: “If you do, love, I’ll cry.”

Summary and Analysis

The wooer, dressed as Palamon, informs the doctor that the daughter has begun to accept him as Palamon and that her spirits have risen considerably. The doctor instructs the wooer to satisfy her every need, including sleeping with her and when her father protests the doctor insists that her sanity is more important than her ‘honesty’. The jailer speaks to his daughter but she does not recognize him and they discuss the horse that Palamon has give her. She claims the horse can dance, read and write and play tennis. When the daughter encounters the wooer and believes him to be Palamon, they banter affectionately and discuss their forthcoming wedding and plans to sleep together. A messenger arrives to inform the jailer that the two cousins are about to commence their fighting contest. The doctor seems convinced that the daughter is coming along very well, but we must wonder, as she does not recognize her own father and easily accepts the wooer as Palamon, all the while singing the praises of the dancing horse, who also reads, writes and plays tennis. 

Act V

Scene iii

In the forest

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia and Pirithous

Emilia: “I’ll not step further. Every blow that falls threatens a brave life. I will stay here. It is enough that my hearing shall be punished with what shall happen – not taint my eye with dread sights it may shun.”

Pirithous: “Sir, my good lord, your sister will no further.”

Theseus: “O, she must. She shall see deeds of honour.” (to Emilia) “You must be present. You are the victor’s mead, the prize and garland to crown the question’s title.”

Hippolyta: “You must go.”

Emilia: “In faith, I will not.”

Theseus: “Why, the knights must kindle their valour at your eye. Know, of this war you are the treasure.”

Emilia: “Sir, pardon me. The title of a kingdom may be tried out of itself.”

Theseus: “Well then; at your pleasure.”

Hippolyta: “Farewell sister.”

Exit Theseus, Hippolyta and Pirithous

Emilia: “Arcite is gently visaged, yet his eye is like a sharp weapon in a soft sheath; mercy and manly courage are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon has a most menacing aspect. Melancholy becomes him nobly. So does Arcite’s mirth, but Palamon’s sadness is a kind of mirth so mingled as if mirth did make him sad and sadness merry. The darker humours that stick misbecomingly on others, on him live in fair dwelling. Arcite may win me and yet may Palamon wound Arcite to the spoiling of his figure. O, what pity enough for such a chance. It is much better I am not there. O, better never born then minister such harm.”

Cornets and a great cry. Enter a servant

Emilia: “What is the chance?”

Servant: “The cry is ‘Palamon!'”

Emilia: “Then he has won. Twas ever likely. He looked all grace and success and he is doubtless the most excellent of men. I prithee run and tell me how it goes.”

Servant disappears and then re-enters

Servant: “They say that Palamon had Arcite’s body within an inch of the pyramid and that the cry was general for Palamon, but anon, the two bold titles at this instant are hand to hand at it.”

Emilia: “Were they metamorphosed both into one? There were no woman worth so composed a man.”

More cornets and cries

Emilia: “Palamon still?”

Servant: “Nay, now the sound is ‘Arcite’. The cry is ‘Arcite’ and ‘Victory!’ The combat’s consummation is proclaimed.”

Emilia: “I did think good Palamon would miscarry, yet I knew not why I did think so. Our reasons are not prophets when often our fancies are. They are coming off. Alas, poor Palamon!”

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous and Arcite as victor

Theseus: “Fairest Emilia, the gods by their arbitrament have given you this knight. He is a good one. Give me your hands. Receive you her, you him.”

Arcite: “Emilia, to buy you I have lost what’s dearest to me, and yet I purchase cheaply, as I do rate your value.”

Theseus: “O loved sister, he speaks now of as brave a knight as ever did spur a noble steed. Wear the garland with joy that you have won. For the subdued, give him our present justice, since I know his life but pinches him now. Let it here be done. The scene is not for our seeing; go we hence right joyful, with some sorrow. Arm your prize; I know you will not lose her.”

Emilia: “Is this winning? O you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? Charge me live to comfort this unfriended, this miserable prince, who cuts away a life more worthy from him then all women; I should and would die too.”

Hippolyta: “Infinite pity that four such eyes should be so fixed on one that two must needs be blinded for it.”

Theseus: “So it is.”

Summary and Analysis

As the noble court approach the battlefield, Emilia refuses to watch the fight between the two cousins. They try to convince her to attend, as the prize they fight over is her, but she will not budge and remains behind to merely hear the cries of the assembled crowd, which she claims will be hard enough to bear. Alone, Emilia inconclusively considers both suitors, just as she did in Act IV when attempting to chose one to love over the other. We must wonder, as she continues to struggle over her preference, if this might be because she really disdains the very idea of marriage to a man at all or if it is because her choice will certainly condemn the other to his agreed upon death. She is incapable of distinguishing between the victory of one and the tragedy of the other. At first the crowds crying Palamon’s name suggests the fate of Arcite but then she hears Arcite’s name proclaimed and sure enough he comes forward as the victor. Theseus presents Arcite to Emilia as her victorious knight, but she questions the gods about whether or not this is a victory at all in the absence of mercy over the love these kinsmen lost for each other because of Emilia. Hippolyta speaks of the infinite pity that four such eyes, those of the Two Noble Kinsmen, should so be fixed on one that two must be blinded for it. With a single scene remaining, both of our plots of the poor jailer’s made-mad daughter and the anguish of Emilia over the death of Palamon require considerable resolution before the play’s status as a comedy can be justified. And yet, isn’t this precisely what Shakespeare does best?

Act V

Scene iv

In the forest

Enter Palamon and his condemned knights, jailer, executioner and guard

Palamon: “There are many men alive who have outlived the love of the people. We prevent the loathsome misery of age and beguile the gout and rheum that in lag hours attend. We come to the gods young and fresh, which shall surely please them.”

1 Knight: “What ending could be of more content? Over us the victors have fortune, whose title is as momentary as to us death is certain. A grain of honour they not overweigh us.”

2 Knight: “Let us bid farewell and with our patience anger tottering fortune, who at her certain’st reels.”

Palamon: “Aha, my friend, your gentle daughter gave me freedom once. You’ll see it done now forever. Pray, how does she? I heard she was not well.”

Jailer: “Sir, she’s well restored and to be married shortly.”

Palamon: “I am most glad of it; tis the latest thing I shall be glad of – prithee tell her so. Commend me to her, and to piece her portion tender her this.” (gives purse)

1 Knight: “Nay, let’s be offerers all.”

All Knights: “Commend us to her.” (they give their purses)

Jailer: “The gods requite you and make her thankful.”

Palamon: “Adeiu.” (lies on the block)

1 Knight: “Lead, courageous cousin.”

2 & 3 Knights: “We’ll follow cheerfully.”

A great noise within

Enter in haste a messenger

Messenger: “Save! Hold! Hold, O Hold, hold, hold!”

Pirithous: “Hold ho! Noble Palamon, the gods will show their glory in a life thou are yet to lead.”

Palamon: “Can that be? How do things fare?”

Pirithous: “Arise, great sir, and give the tidings ear which are most dearly sweet and bitter.”

Palamon: “What has awaken us from our dreams?”

Pirithous: “Your cousin, mounted on a steed that Emily did first bestow on him. On this horse is Arcite trotting upon the stones of Athens and as he thus went a counting the flinty pavement, with fire malevolent, darted a spark, and the hot horse, hot as fire, fell to what disorder his power could give his will – bounds, whines and seeks all foul means to disseat his lord. Backward the jade comes over, and his full poise becomes the rider’s load. Yet he is living, but such a vessel tis that floats but for the surge that next approaches. He much desires to have some speech with you.”

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia and Arcite in a chair

Palamon: “O, miserable end of our alliance! The gods are mighty. Arcite, give me thy last words. I am Palamon, one who yet loves thee dying.”

Arcite: “Take Emilia and with her all the world’s joy. Reach thy hand – farewell; I have told my last hour. I was falsest, never treacherous. Forgive me, cousin. Tis done. Take her; I die.”

Emilia: “I’ll close thine eyes, prince. Blessed souls be with thee. Thou were a right and good man.”

Theseus: “Acknowledge to the gods your thanks that you are living. His part is played and, though it were too short, he did it well. Your day is lengthened. The powerful Venus well has graced her altar and given you her love.”

Palamon: “O cousin, that we should things desire, which do cost us the loss of our desire! That naught could buy dear love but loss of dear love!

Arcite is carried out

Theseus: “Never fortune did play a subtler game: the conquered triumphs; the victor has the loss. Palamon, your kinsman has confessed the right of the lady did lie in you. He restored her as your stolen jewel and desired your spirit to send him hence forgiven. Lead your lady off. A day or two let us look sadly and give grace unto the funeral of Arcite, in whose end the visages of bridegrooms we’ll put on and smile with Palamon, for whom but an hour since, I was as dearly sorry as glad of Arcite and am now as glad as for him sorry. O you heavenly charmers, what things you make of us! For what we lack we laugh, for what we have are sorry. Let us be thankful for that which is, and with you leave dispute that is above our question. Let’s go off and bear us like the time.”

Summary and Analysis

Palamon and his knights are escorted to his death by the jailer, an executioner and a guard. The cousin accepts his fate and even finds relief in never having to grow old. He will face the gods young and vigorous. His knights similarly agree that they have defended their honour, despite the outcome of the struggle. They are prepared to die courageously. Palamon learns from the jailer that his daughter has fully recovered and is set to marry. Palamon and his knights bestow their purses upon her as a tribute to her goodness in initially freeing Palamon from prison. Then just as Palamon positions himself on the chopping block Pirithous rushes in with news that Arcite has fallen from his horse and is merely clinging to life. This of course changes everything. Arcite was preparing to marry Emilia and Palamon was condemned to death. Now in an instant the gods have seemingly reversed their fortunes, as Arcite suddenly lies dying and Palamon’s life is being spared. Furthermore, Arcite asks to speak with his cousin before he dies and the two kinsmen reconcile their love for one another and Arcite apologises for pursuing Emilia and gives his blessing that Palamon and Emilia should wed. Curiously to modern audiences, nobody seems to run this proposal by Emilia. Arcite simply says ‘Take Emilia’. She kisses Arcite one last time and ’tis done’. He is dead. In the plays final passages Theseus reflects on the wonders of the gods, as they have answered the prayers of both cousins and Emilia. Mars has allowed Arcite to win the battle between the two cousins, as was his plea. Venus has honoured Palamon’s request to be triumphant in love and Diana has answered the wish of Emilia that she marry the man who truly loved her most, which is Palamon, who asked for love. This accidental death has also relieved Theseus of the burden of putting either of the cousins to death. The gods are indeed powerful and mysterious and Theseus concludes by declaring that we mere humans must be grateful for what we have and make the most from what we have been given. Amen to that.

Epilogue

Delivered by a boy, presumably the boy actor for Emilia or the Jailer’s daughter

Epilogue: “I would now ask ye how ye liked the play, but as it is with school boys, I cannot say. I am cruel fearful. Pray yet stay a while, and let me look upon ye. No man smile? Then it goes hard, I see. He who has loved a young and handsome wench, then show his face. Tis strange if none be here. Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye. Now what say ye? And yet mistake me not – I am not bold. If the tale we have told – for tis no other – any way content ye (for to that honest purpose it was meant ye) we have our end. We and all our might rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night.”

Summary and Analysis

Epilogue, in the person of a young boy, arrives on the stage and addresses the audience, attempting to determine if the troupe has been successful in honouring Chaucer’s memory. There is a light heartedness to the tone, perhaps to compensate for the death of Arcite, an unusual occurrence in a comedy.

Final Thoughts

Friendship was somewhat of a common theme in Shakespeare’s plays. One imagines Prince Hal and Falstaff (Henry IV), Antonio and Bassanio (The Merchant of Venice), Hamlet and Horatio (Hamlet) and Julius Caesar and Brutus (Julius Caesar). There are always challenges to be endured and Arcite and Palamon are no exception. But woe to any friendship when the love of a woman divides the relationship and this is the specific fate that our two gentlemen must navigate. One glance from a prison window and the divisive plot is off and running at great peril to the intimate cousins. In a matter of minutes they are willing to kill each other over Emilia, who does not even know they exist, even though their love for each other is genuine and profound. The intoxicating and mysteriously destructive nature of romantic love has senseless and disintegrating consequences on the stable and loyal lifelong dedicated love between these honourable men.

William Shakespeare and John Fletcher wrote this play based on the medeival Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer and its depiction of bravery and a sense of commitment to duty. So once they lose their love for one another to this chivalric devotion to Emilia, there is no turning back permitted. It becomes a matter of honour and their stubborn adherence to this chivalric code seals their fate. All they can do is appeal to the gods, and this they do. The heavens answer all of the prayers and what was otherwise a senseless, incomprehensible and random ending is mysteriously transformed into a reasonable and virtuous good fortune of divine providence. Nothing is left to chance. 

The Jailer’s daughter helps her father run the prison where Arcite and Palamon reside until Theseus frees Arcite and the daughter falls hopelessly in love with Palamon and helps him to escape. When it becomes clear that he has run off rather than planning to meet up with the daughter, she descends into madness. Love strikes again. However, it will not be the gods who restore her health this time, but a doctor who convinces her long time wooer to impersonate Palamon, which helps her to heal and plan her marriage to a man she believes to be Palamon. After all, love is blind.

It is believed that Shakespeare co-wrote this, his final literary work, with John Fletcher, before retiring for good back home, full circle, to his native Stratford upon Avon. The Two Noble Kinsmen is an admirable swan song, generously sprinkled with the wonderful language of the Bard and the theatrical extravagance of the well known Mr Fletcher. They also collaborated on Henry VIII, Shakespeare’s second to last play. The plot of The Two Noble Kinsmen is well presented with excellent twists and turns and the characters are superbly developed. It is thematically rich and linguistically diverse, with sufficient examples of a great number of excellent literary devices.

The Two Noble Kinsmen has only recently been acknowledged far and wide as a legitimate addition to the Shakespearean Canon and is finally being staged for audiences to encounter its many entertaining virtues. For hundreds of years it has been exclusively gleamed from its pages and not stages. Proof that this is finally being corrected may be found on Youtube, where an admirable 2014 production by the Victoria University of Wellington is available for viewing, along with a most excellent 2015 Shakespeare in the Park creation from Camp Long in Seattle.

King Henry VIII

Introduction

It was once thought that John Fletcher wrote most of Henry VIII and that Shakespeare might have contributed only a few scenes. The latest evidence, however, suggests that the entire play is indeed Shakespeare’s, although Fletcher may have contributed somewhat. Its looser structure is similar to his late romances and perhaps influenced by the popular masques that were being written around the same time for the Court and at Blackfriars Theatre. Henry VIII is a mix between pomp and spectacle on the one hand interspersed with scenes of political intrigue and moral dilemmas, featuring the likes of Cardinal Wolsey and King Henry’s first wife, Katherine, two of Shakespeare’s finer creations. Of the ten history plays, this is the one closest to Shakespeare’s own time, written only three generations after the events themselves. In fact, Queen Elizabeth I and King James I are as much the heroes of the play as anyone actually depicted during the actual reign of King Henry VIII. The fallen characters all stand in the way, in one form or another, of Elizabeth’s, and by extension, James’ reigns. Buckingham is brought down in act I for having designs on the throne, which of course would have prevented the birth of Elizabeth. Katherine was removed in act II, as Henry must divorce her and marry Anne Bullen if Elizabeth is to be born and her and James are ever to assume the throne. And finally, Cardinal Wolsey meets his fate in act III, as he opposed the marriage of Henry to Anne, preferring that the King marry the sister of the King of France. ‘I’ll no Anne Bullen for him.’ In act III Suffolk praises the new Queen Anne, prophesying that ‘from her will fall some blessing to this land.’ Anne is praised repeatedly, being Elizabeth’s mother. ‘She is the goodliest woman who ever lay by man.’ When Elizabeth is being christened enormous throngs of people are pressing to witness the event and perhaps see the babe, as if it is expected that she will one day be great. ‘What a multitude are here! From all parts they keep coming.’ The King at Arms declares ‘Heaven send prosperous life, long and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth.’ But Cramner has the most grandiose prophesy for the new infant and future Queen: ‘This royal infant, though in her cradle, yet now promises upon this land a thousand thousand blessings. All princely graces shall be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her and she shall be loved and feared. Good grows with her. In her days every man shall eat in safety and sing merry songs of peace. God shall be truly known. Nor shall this peace sleep with her, but when this bird of wonder dies, her ashes will create another heir as great in admiration as herself. But she must die a virgin and all the world shall mourn her.’ So this, at heart, is as much a play foretelling the renaissance reigns of Queen Elizabeth and King James as it is about the court of Henry VIII. Shakespeare wrote this play for King James, his monarch. How flattering indeed it must have been for James to hear such glorious prophecies about himself. The play only depicts the later years of Queen Katherine, Henry’s first wife, and the early phase of Queen Anne, as short as it was. Henry himself is depicted as a powerful tyrant-king and his nobles are torn apart over the power they each attain. Cardinal Wolsey is shown as an agent of Rome and the Catholic Church and is brought down by the remaining pack of lords. Queen Katherine only produced one child, the future Queen Mary, also known as Bloody Mary, because she will aggressively attempt to return England to Catholicism after King Henry’s Protestant Reformation. Henry divorces Katherine because she had been married previously to his brother and never could produce a male heir in their 23 years together. He used the excuse of having married his brother’s wife as the reason God denied the couple a male heir. However, a more potent reason for their divorce may well have been his powerful attraction to Anne Bullen. Three years later Anne had had several miscarriages following the birth of Elizabeth and Henry accused her of adultery and treason and had her beheaded. Only days after Anne’s death King Henry married Jane Seymour, who would finally give birth to a male heir, the future King Edward VI. Jane would die from complications from that birth. Following King Henry’s death young Edward would reign quite briefly before becoming ill and dying. Mary was next in line for the throne, but she too died early in her tumultuous reign and that is when the crown was passed to the next child of King Henry, the famous Queen Elizabeth, who reigned for 45 glorious years in what is affectionate known as the Elizabeathan Age. Thomas Cramner, the Archbishop of Canterbury is depicted as something of a Protestant saint, accused by the others of heresy. But Henry protects Cramner, making him the godfather to Elizabeth. He will be burned at the stake during the reign of ultra Catholic Queen Mary, Henry’s first child. Henry VIII is a play best appreciated in production rather than on the written page. Shakespeare wrote this, his last complete play in 1612, a year before his final collaboration with John Fletcher in Two Noble Kinsmen. This is a play of great theatrical pageantry. The trial of Queen Katherine, the coronation of Anne Bullen and the birth and christening of Princess Elizabeth are truly regal affairs, as is the banquet put on by Cardinal Wolsey. It is also a play depicting the rise and fall of enormous personages. Buckingham, Katherine and Wolsey are deposed while Anne and Cramner are rising stars who history tells us will also fall very unceremoniously in due time. The writing is lyrical, the characters are well developed and the themes of the shifting sands of power and the relative nature of truth are all engaging qualities. While, Like King John, perhaps not as appreciated as the remaining English histories, Henry VIII is a most worthy contribution to the pantheon of Shakespeare’s finer works. It should also be noted that on June 29, 1613, during the inaugural stage production of Henry VIII in the Globe Theatre, a ceremonial cannon blast set the thatched roof ablaze and burned the famous theatre to the ground, which may explain at least partially why 1613 is also the year that the Bard penned his final play and retired from the theatre altogether and returned to his wife and family in his hometown of Stratford, where he would die three years later.

Prologue

“I come no more to make you laugh; things now that bear a weighty and a serious brow, full of state and woe, such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, we now present. Those who can pity here may, if they think it well, let fall a tear: the subject will deserve it. Only they who come to hear a merry bawdy play will be deceived. Therefore, for goodness sake, be sad, as we would make ye. Think ye see the very persons of our noble story as they were living; think you see them great, then in a moment, see how soon this mightiness meets misery. And if you can be merry then I’ll say a man may weep upon his wedding day.”

Summary and Analysis

A figure arrives in the prologue and informs the audience that this is a serious play and that it may cause them to feel pity and even to shed a tear. Those hoping merely to be entertained will be disappointed. The audience is encouraged to be sad, as the characters they meet, who are great personages, will be rendered into misery. If the audience can manage to be merry then a man may weep upon his wedding day. This prologue sets the stage for what is to come, a serious play about characters who will fall from greatness into despair.

Act I (4 scenes)

Scene i

London. The Palace.

Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny.

Buckingham: “Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done since last we saw in France?”

Norfolk: “I thank your Grace; and ever since a fresh admirer of what I saw there.”

Buckingham: “Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, met.”

Norfolk: “I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; beheld them, as they grew together. Each following day till the last made former wonders. Today the French shines down the English, and tomorrow they made Britain India. Now this masque was cried incomparable. The two kings, equal in lustre; and being present both twas said they saw but one. All was royal.”

Buckingham: “Who did guide this great sport together?”

Norfolk: “One who promises no element in such a business.”

Buckingham: “I pray you, who, my lord?”

Norfolk: “All this was ordered by the good discretion of the right reverend Cardinal of York.”

Buckingham: “The devil speed him! No man’s pie is freed from his ambitious finger.”

Norfolk: “Surely, sir, there’s in him stuff that puts him to these ends; for, being not propped by ancestry, but spider-like, out of his self-drawing web, the force of his own merit makes his way – a gift that heaven gives for him, which buys a place next to the King.”

Abergavenny: “I cannot tell what heaven has given him, but I can see his pride peep through each part of him. If not from hell, the devil begins a new hell in himself.”

Buckingham: “Why the devil, upon this French going out took he upon himself, without the privity of the King, to appoint who should attend. He makes up the file of all the gentry.”

Abergavenny: “I do know, kinsman of mine, three at the least, who have by this so sickened their estates that never shall they abound as formerly.”

Buckingham: “O, many have broken their backs for this great journey.”

Norfolk: “Grievingly I think the peace between the French and us not values the cost that did conclude it.”

Buckingham: “Why, all this business our reverend Cardinal carried.”

Norfolk: “I advise you – and take it from a heart that wishes you plenteous safety – that he’s revengeful; and I know his sword has a sharp edge – it’s one and it may be said it reaches far, and where it will not extend, thither he darts it. Bosom up council; you’ll find it wholesome; I advise your shunning.”

Buckingham: “This butcher’s cur is venom-mouthed; and I have not the power to muzzle him. I read in his looks matters against me, and his eye reviled me. At this instant he bores me with some trick; he’s gone to the King; I’ll follow and outstare him.”

Norfolk: “Stay, my lord, and let your reason with your choler question what it is you go about. To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.

Buckingham: “I’ll to the King, and from a mouth of honour quite cry down this fellow’s insolence.”

Norfolk: “Be advised: heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it does singe yourself. We may outrun by violent swiftness that which we run at, and lose by over-running. Be advised. I say again there is no English soul more stronger to direct you than yourself, if with the sap of reason you would quench or but allay the fire of passion.”

Buckingham: “Sir, I am thankful to you, and I’ll go along by your prescription; but this top-proud fellow, by intelligence, I do know to be corrupt and treasonous.”

Norfolk: “Say not treasonous.”

Buckingham: “To the King I’ll say it. Attend: this holy fox, or wolf, or both, for he is equal ravenous as he is subtle, and as prone to mischief as able to perform it, his mind and place infecting one another. This cunning Cardinal, the articles drew as himself pleased. Charles the Emperor, he came to whisper to Wolsey; his fears were that the interview between England and France might through their amity breed him some prejudice; for from this league peeped harms that menaced him, whereby his suit was granted, the way was made, and paved with gold, as the Emperor thus desired, that he would please to alter the King’s course, and break the foresaid peace. Let the King know, as soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, and for his own advantage.”

Norfolk: “I am sorry to hear this of him.”

Buckingham: “I do pronounce him in that very shape he shall appear in proof.”

Enter Brandon and a Sergeant at Arms

Brandon: “Your office, sergeant: execute it.”

Sergeant: “My lord the Duke of Buckingham, I arrest thee of high treason, in the name of our most sovereign King.”

Buckingham: “The net has fallen upon me! I shall perish under device and practice.”

Brandon: “I am sorry see you taken from liberty; tis his Highness’ pleasure you shall to the Tower.”

Buckingham: “It will help me nothing to plead my innocence; for that dye is on me which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven be done in this and all things! I obey. O my lord Abergavenny, fare you well.”

Brandon: “Nay, he must bear you company. (to Abergavenny) The King is pleased that you too shall to the Tower.”

Abergavenny: “As the Duke said, the will of heaven be done, and the King’s pleasure by me obeyed.”

Buckingham: “My surveyor is false. The over-great Cardinal has shown him gold; my life is spanned already. My lord, farewell.”

Summary and Analysis

Norfolk, Buckingham and Abergavenny discuss the pageants just concluded between England and France. Norfolk reports that it was all organized by Cardinal Wolsey. Hearing this, Buckingham rages against the ambitious pride of the Cardinal, claiming that English nobles paid for these extravagances in France. Abergavenny relates that many nobles have lost their lands as a result of these costs imposed upon them. Norfolk agrees but warns that Cardinal Wolsey is a very powerful man who exacts revenge upon those who speak ill of him. Buckingham is concerned that Wolsey is already plotting against him and plans to expose the Cardinal’s corruption and treasonous behaviours to King Henry. Just then the Sergeant at Arms arrives with an arrest warrant for Buckingham, who knows immediately that he is finished. Wolsey clearly got to the King first and seeing that he is very close to the King, he has the power to destroy Buckingham. In the rise and fall of various characters throughout this play, Buckingham is the first, but not the last, to be destroyed.

Act I

Scene ii

London. The Council Chamber

Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinal’s shoulder.

King: “My life itself, and the best heart of it, thanks you for this great care; I stood in the level of a full charged confederacy, and give thanks to you who choked it. Let be called before us that gentleman of Buckingham’s. And point by point the treasons of his master he shall again relate.”

Enter the Queen, Norfolk and Suffolk.

Queen Katherine: “Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.”

King: “Arise, and take a place by us. You have half our power. Repeat your will, and take it. Lady mine, proceed.”

Queen Katherine: “I am solicited that your subjects are in great grievance: there have been commissions sent down among them which have flawed the heart of all their loyalties; wherein, Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches most bitterly on you as putter-on of these exactions and almost appear in loud rebellion.”

Norfolk: “Not almost appears – it does appear; for, upon these taxations, compelled by hunger and lack of other means, in desperate manner daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, and danger serves among them.”

King: “Taxation! What taxation? My Lord Cardinal, you who are blamed for it, know you of this taxation?”

Wolsey: “Please you, sir, I know but of a single part pertains to the state.”

Queen Katherine: “No, my lord! You frame things that are known, which are not wholesome. These exactions, they are most pestilent; and to bear them the back is sacrificed to the load. They say they are devised by you.”

King: “Exaction! The nature of it? What kind, let’s know.”

Queen Katherine: “The subjects’ griefs come through commissions, which compels from each the sixth part of his substance, to be levied without delay; and the pretence for this is named your wars in France. Their curses now live where their prayers did; I would your Highness would give this quick consideration.”

King: “By my life, this is against our pleasure.”

Wolsey: “And for me, I hav no further gone in this than by learned approbation of the judges.”

King: “Have you a precedent of this commission? I believe, not any. Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! To every county where this is questioned send our letters with free pardon to each man who has denied the force of this commission. Pray, look to it.”

Wolsey: (aside to the secretary) “A word with you. Let there be letters writ to every shire – let it be noised that through our intercession this revokement and pardon comes.”

Enter the surveyor

Queen Katherine: “I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham has run into your displeasure.”

King; “It grieves many. The gentleman is learned. Yet see, the mind growing once corrupt, they turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly than ever they were fair. He, my lady, has into monstrous habits put the graces that once were his, and has become as black as if besmeared in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear. This was his gentleman.”

Wolsey: “Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you have collected out of the Duke of Buckingham.”

King: “Speak freely.”

Surveyor: “First, it was usual with him, every day it would infect his speech, that if the king should without issue die, he’ll carry it so to make the sceptre his. He menaced revenge upon the Cardinal.”

Wolsey: “His will is most malignant, and it stretches beyond you, to your friends.”

Queen Katherine: “My learned Lord Cardinal, deliver all with charity. (to the surveyor) If I know you well, you were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your office on the complaint of the tenants. Take good heed you charge not in your spleen a noble person and spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed.”

King: “Let him on.”

Surveyor: “On my soul, I’ll speak but truth. I told my lord the Duke, that it was dangerous for him to ruminate on this so far. He answered ‘Tush, it can do me no damage’; adding further that, had the King in his last sickness failed, the Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads should have gone off.”

King: “Ah ha! There’s mischief in this man. A giant traitor!”

Wolsey: “Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom and this man out of prison?”

Queen Katherine: “God mend all.”

King: “Call him to present trial. If he may find mercy in the law, tis his; if none, let him not seek it of us. By day and night! He is traitor to the height.”

Summary and Analysis

King Henry thanks the Cardinal for halting a plot on his life, but just then Katherine, his Queen, speaks up about the people being in a state of near revolt by taxations levied upon them by the Cardinal. King Henry claims not to now about these taxes, but Katherine reminds him that the responsibility for them is still his. Apparently they were taxes levied to pay for the pageants arranged by the Cardinal in France. The King is not pleased with this and orders Wolsey to rescind the taxes immediately. Wolsey obeys but tells his secretary to be sure that he gets the credit for this. The surveyor of Buckingham comes to testify against Buckingham and Katherine is disappointed that Buckingham has found displeasure with the King. Henry agrees but wants to hear what the surveyor has to say. What the man claims is that he overheard Buckingham state that he intends to seize the crown should King Henry die without an heir. Katherine reminds the King that this surveyor was fired by Buckingham because of complaints from the tenants and that his accusations may merely be an act of revenge upon Buckingham. The surveyor further states that Buckingham plans to have the Cardinal killed once Henry is dead. Finally, he claims to have heard Buckingham say that he will not make the mistake his father made, being murdered by King Richard, who he had been loyal to. Rather, Buckingham says he will use his proximity to the king to kill him. Based upon the testimony of this one disgruntled worker, who the Cardinal urged to testify, the King is convinced that Buckingham is a traitor who intends to kill him and orders that a trial proceed. It would seem that Buckingham is right and that Wolsey has abused his authority with the King. But Wolsey has arranged that Buckingham himself be tried for treason before he can plead his case against Wolsey. Buckingham is doomed and nothing Queen Katherine or anyone else can say will save him. Whoever opposes Wolsey runs the risk of being condemned before the King, so Queen Katherine may very well be the next to fall out of grace with Henry, even though they have been happily married for 23 years. But there is no male heir and Wolsey, a powerful representative of the Catholic Church, uses this to suggest what the King just might do next.

Act I

Scene iii

London. The palace.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sandys

Chamberlain: “Is it possible the spells of France should juggle men into such strange mysteries?”

Sandys: “New customs, though they never be so ridiculous, nay, let them be unmanly.”

Chamberlain: “Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to it, that surely they have worn our Christendom.”

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell

Chamberlain: “How now?”

Lovell: “Faith, my lord, I hear none but the new proclamation.”

Chamberlain: “What is it for?”

Lovell: “The reformation of our travelled gallants, who fill the court with quarrels.”

Chamberlain: “I am glad it is here. Now I would pray our monsieurs never see the Louvre.”

Lovell: “They must leave those remnants of fools and feathers that they got in France as fights and fireworks, renouncing clean the faith they have in tennis, tall stockings, short breeches and understand again like honest men, their diseases are grown so catching.”

Chamberlain: “Sir Thomas, whither were you going?”

Lovell: “To the Cardinal’s; your lordship is a guest too.”

Chamberlain: “This night he makes a supper, and a great one, to many lords and ladies.”

Lovell: “That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed.”

Chamberlain: “No doubt he is noble.”

Summary and Analysis

The lords make fun of the newest fashions in France, as the English of Shakespeare’s day did indeed. Audiences would heartily appreciate this exchange. They next set out to an elaborate banquet put on by Cardinal Wolsey, who they agree is an honourable fellow.

Act I

Scene iv

London. The Presence Chamber in York Palace

Enter Anne Bullen and other ladies along with Sir Henry Guildford.

Guildford: “Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace. This night he dedicates to fair content and you. He would have all as merry as good company, good wine and good welcome can make good people.”

Sandys: “By my life, they are a sweet society of fair ones.”

Lovell: “O that your lordship were but now confessor to one or two of these!”

Sandys: “I would I were: they should find easy penance.”

Lovell: “Faith, how easy?”

Sandys: “As easy as a down bed would afford it.”

Chamberlain: “His Grace is entering.”

Sandys: “By my faith, sweet ladies, if I chance to talk a bit wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.”

Anne: “Was he mad, sir?”

Sandys: “O, very mad, exceedingly mad, in love too. But he would bite none. He would kiss you twenty with a breath.” (he kisses Anne)

Chamberlain: “Gentlemen, the penance lies on you if if these fair ladies pass away frowning.”

Enter Cardinal Wolsey

Wolsey: “You are welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady or gentleman who is not freely merry is not my friend. And to you all, good health!” (he drinks)

Sandys: “Your Grace is noble. Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks.”

Wolsey: “Cheer your neighbours. Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen, whose fault is this?”

Sandys: “The red wine first must rise in their fair cheeks, my lord.”

Anne: “You are a merry gamester, my Lord Sandys.”

Sandys: “Here’s to your ladyship.”

Drums and trumpet

Wolsey: “What’s that?”

Chamberlain: “Look out there.”

Enter a servant

Wolsey: “What warlike voice, and to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not; by all the laws of war you are privileged.”

Chamberlain: “How now? What is it?”

Servant: “A noble root of strangers have left their barge and landed, and hither make, as great ambassadors from foreign princes.”

Wolsey: “Good Lord Chamberlain, go and give them welcome; yo can speak the French tongue; and pray relieve them nobly and conduct them into our presence.”

Enter The King and others as maskers, dressed as shepherds

Wolsey: “A noble company! What are their pleasures?”

Chamberlain: “Because they speak no English, thus they prayed to tell your Grace that, this night to meet here, they could do no less, out of the great respect they bear to beauty, they crave leave to view these ladies and entreat an hour of revels with them.”

Wolsey: “Say, Lord Chamberlain, they have done my poor house grace. Pray them take their pleasures.” (they choose ladies. The King chooses Anne)

King: “The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty, till now I did never know thee.”

Wolsey: “Pray tell them this much from me: there should be one amongst them, by his person, more worthy this place than myself.”

Chamberlain: “I will, my lord.” (he whispers to the maskers)

Wolsey: “What says they?”

Chamberlain: “Such a one, they all confess, there is indeed; which they would have your Grace find out, and he will take it.”

Wolsey: “Let me see, then. Gentlemen, here I’ll make my royal choice.”

King: (unmasking) “You have found him, Cardinal. You do well, lord. You are a churchman.”

Wolsey: “I am glad your Grace is grown so pleasant.”

King: “My Lord Chamberlain, prithee come hither: what fair lady is that?”

Chamberlain: “Sir Thomas Bullen’s daughter.”

King: “By heaven, she’s a dainty one.”

Wolsey: “Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready in the Privy Chamber?”

Lovell: “Yes, my lord.”

King: “Lead in your ladies, everyone. Let’s be merry. Good my Lord Cardinal, I have a half dozen healths to drink to these fair ladies, and then let’s dream who is best in favour.”

Summary and Analysis

The lords are headed to a great dinner party hosted by Wolsey. Ladies arrive at the gathering and among them is Anne Bullen. Guests arrived disguised as shepherds and it turns out to be the King and his men. King Henry is immediately taken by the beauty of Anne Bullen, who will, of course, become his next wife and the mother of Shakespeare’s Queen Elizabeth. Queen Katherine, Henry’s wife of 23 years, and Cardinal Wolsey will both fall when they stand in the way of Elizabeth being born. Henry’s relationship with Anne Bullen will not be a long one but it does perform the one great feat required of it, the birth of Princess Elizabeth.

Act II (4 scenes)

Scene i

Westminster. A street.

Enter two gentlemen

1 Gentleman: “Whither away so fast?”

2 Gentleman: “To the Hall, to hear what shall become of the great Duke of Buckingham.”

1 Gentleman: “I’ll save you that labour, sir. All is now done.”

2 Gentleman: “Were you there?”

1 Gentleman: “Yes, indeed I was.”

2 Gentleman: “Pray, speak what has happened.”

1 Gentleman: “You may guess quickly what.”

2 Gentleman: “Is he found guilty?”

1 Gentleman: “Yes, truly he is, and condemned upon it.”

2 Gentleman: “I am sorry for it.”

1 Gentleman: “So are a number more.”

2 Gentleman: “But, pray, how passed it?”

1 Gentleman: “The great Duke came to the bar, where to his accusations he pleaded still not guilty, and alleged many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The King’s attorney, on the contrary, urged on the examinations, proofs, and confessions of witnesses; which the Duke desired to have brought to his face. All these accused him strongly; and so his peers, upon this evidence, have found him guilty of high treason. Much he spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all was either pitied in him or forgotten.”

2 Gentleman: “How did her bear himself?”

1 Gentleman: “When he was brought again to the bar to hear his judgment, he was stirred with such an agony he sweat extremely, and something spoke in choler, ill and hasty; but he fell to himself again, and sweetly in all the rest show’d a most noble patience.”

2 Gentleman: “Certainly the Cardinal is the end of this.”

1 Gentleman: “Tis likely, by all conjecture. This is noted: whoever the King favours the Cardinal instantly will find employment, and far enough from court too.”

2 Gentleman: “All the commons hate him perniciously, and, o my conscience, wish him ten fathoms deep: this Duke as much they love and dote on, calling him bounteous Buckingham, the mirror of all courtesy.”

Enter Buckingham with Sir Thomas Lovell

1 Gentleman: “Stay there, sir, and see the noble ruined man you speak of.”

Buckingham: “All good people, you who thus far have come to pity me, hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day received a traitor’s judgment, and by that name must die; yet, heaven bear witness, the law I bear no malice for my death, but those who sought it I could wish were more Christian. Be what they will, I heartily forgive them. You few who loved me and dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, go with me like good angels to my end, and lift my soul to heaven.”

Lovell: “I do beseech your Grace, for charity, if ever any malice in your heart were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.”

Buckingham: “Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you as I would be forgiven. I forgive all. No black envy shall mark my grave. My vows and prayers yet are the King’s, and, shall cry for blessings on him. Ever beloved and loving may his rule be; and when old time shall lead him to his end, goodness and he fill up one monument! When I came hither I was Lord High Constable and Duke of Buckingham; not poor Edward. Yet I am richer than my base accusers who never knew what truth meant; my noble father, Henry of Buckingham, who first raised his head against usurping Richard, was by the wretch betrayed and without trial fell; God’s peace be with him! Henry VII succeeding, truly pitying me father’s loss, restored me to my honours, and out of ruins made my name once more noble. Now his son, Henry VIII, life, honour, name and all that made me happy, at one stroke has taken forever from the world. I had my trial, which makes me a little happier than my wretched father; yet thus far we are one in fortunes, fell by men we loved most, a most unnatural and faithless service. Yet, hear me, this from a dying man: where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends and give your hearts to, when the once perceive the least rub in your fortunes, fall away from ye, never found again but where they mean to sink ye. All good people, pray for me! The last hour of my long, weary life is come upon me. Farewell; and when you would say something that is sad, speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me!”

Exit Buckingham

1 Gentleman: “O, this is full of pity! It calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads who were the authors.”

2 Gentleman: “I can give you inkling of an ensuing evil, if it fall, greater than this.”

1 Gentleman: “What may it be? Let me have it.”

2 Gentleman: “Did you not of late days hear a buzzing of a separation between the King and Katherine? Either the Cardinal or some about him near have, out of malice to the good Queen, possessed him with a scruple that will undo her.”

1 Gentleman: “Tis the Cardinal; and merely to revenge him on the Emperor for not bestowing on him at his asking the Archbishopric of Toledo.”

2 Gentleman: “I think you have hit the mark. The Cardinal will have his will, and she must fall.”

1 Gentleman: “Tis woeful.”

Summary and Analysis

On the streets of London, two gentlemen discuss the trial of Buckingham and how he has been found guilty and sentenced to die, even though he pleaded eloquently that he was not guilty. They believe that Wolsey is responsible for Buckingham’s fate and agree that they hate Wolsey and wish him dead. Buckingham arrives and speaks to the people assembled, saying that he has been ‘condemned by a traitor’s judgment’, asking the crowd to pray for him. The two gentlemen find Buckingham’s case quiet tragic but then speak of another pending fall of an important person. They have heard that King Henry intends to divorce Queen Katherine and they also believe Cardinal Wolsey is involved in this decision as well. These two gentleman offer a glimpse into the minds and hearts of the commoners when it comes to activity at court. They are very interested and troubled by the fall of Buckingham. Buckingham gives a rousing speech, reflecting his state of mind as he is led to his death. This is typical of important persons in Shakespeare plays as they face their death. Buckingham is only the first to fall from grace. As we hear in the very end of the scene Queen Katherine is next. After all, she has not produced a suitable male heir in her 23 year marriage to King Henry. Her daughter, Mary, will be a Queen, but Henry very much desires a son. Anne Bullen won’t fare much better, but she will give birth to the famous Elizabeth. It will be Henry’s third wife of six, Jane Seymour, who will finally give birth to the male heir, Prince Edward, who will reign as the child king, Edward VI, upon the death of King Henry VIII, to be followed by Queen Mary and finally, Queen Elizabeth.

Act II

Scene ii

London. The palace.

Enter Lord Chamberlain reading a letter.

Chamberlain: “My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden and furnished. They were of the best breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinal’s, by commission, and main power, took them from me, with this reason: his master would be served before a subject, which stopped our mouths, sir. Well, let him have them. He will have all, I think.”

Suffolk: “How is the King employed?”

Chamberlain: “I left him full of sad thoughts and troubles.”

Norfolk: “What’s the cause?”

Chamberlain: “It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife has crept too near his conscience.”

Suffolk: “No, his conscience has crept too near another lady.”

Norfolk: “Tis so; this is the Cardinal’s doing; the King-Cardinal, that blind priest. The King will know him one day.”

Suffolk: “Pray God he do!”

Norfolk: “For, now he has cracked the league between us and the Emperor, the Queen’s great nephew. He dives into the King’s soul and there scatters dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, fears and despairs – and all these for his marriage; and out of all these to restore the King. He counsels a divorce, a loss of her that like a jewel has hung twenty years about his neck, yet never lost her lustre; of her who loves him with that excellence that angels love good men with.”

Chamberlain: “Tis most true. These truths are everywhere; every tongue speaks them, and every true heart weeps for it. All that dare look into these affairs and see this main end – the French King’s sister. Heaven will one day open the King’s eyes, that so long have slept upon this bold bad man.”

Suffolk: “And free us from his slavery.”

Norfolk: “We had need pray, and heartily, for our deliverance; or this imperious man will work us all from princes into pages. All men’s honours lie like one lump before him, to be fashioned into what pitch he please.”

Suffolk: “I knew him and I know him; so I leave him to him who made him proud – the Pope.”

Norfolk: “Let’s in; and with some other business put the King from these sad thoughts that work too much upon him.”

Exit Lord Chamberlain

The King draws his curtain and sits reading pensively

Suffolk: “How sad he looks; he is much afflicted.”

King: “Who’s there, ha?”

Norfolk: “Pray God he be not angry.”

King: “Who’s there, I say. How dare you thrust yourselves into my private meditations? Who am I, ha?”

Norfolk: “A gracious King who pardons all offences malice never meant.”

King: “Ye are too bold. Go to; I’ll make ye know your time of business. Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha?”

Enter Wolsey and Campeius

King: “Who’s there? My good Lord Cardinal? O, my Wolsey, the quiet of my wounded conscience. Thou are a cure fit for a King. (to Campeius) You are welcome, most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom.”

Wolsey: “Sir, I would your Grace would give us but an hour of private conference.”

King: (to Norfolk and Suffolk) “We are busy; go.”

Suffolk: “This cannot continue.”

Norfolk:”If it do, I’ll venture one will have at him.”

Suffolk: “I another.”

Exit Norfolk and Suffolk

Wolsey: “Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom above all princes, in committing freely your scruple to the voice of Christendom. Who can be angry now? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, must now confess the trial just and noble. Rome, the nurse of judgment, invited by your noble self, has sent this just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius, whom once more I present unto your Highness.”

King: ” And once more in my arms I bid him welcome, and thank the holy conclave for their loves.”

Campeius: “Your Grace must needs deserve all stranger’s loves, you are so noble. To your Highness’ hand I tender my commission. You, my Lord Cardinal of York, are joined with me their servant in the impartial judging of this business.”

King: “Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted forthwith for what you come.”

Wolsey: “I know your majesty has always loved her.”

King: “Ay, and the best she shall have. God forbid else. Cardinal, prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; I find him a fit fellow.”

Wolsey: (an aside to Gardiner) “Give me your hand: and much joy and favour to you; you are the King’s now.”

Gardiner: (an aside to Wolsey) “But to be commanded forever by your Grace, whose hands have raised me.”

King: “Come hither, Gardiner. Deliver this with modesty to the Queen. The most convenient place that I can think of for such receipt of learning is Blackfriars; there ye shall meet about this weighty business. My Wolsey, see it furnished. O, my lord, would it not grieve an able man to leave so sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! O, tis a tender place! And I must leave her.”

Summary and Analysis

Lord Chamberlain reads a letter about how Cardinal Wolsey has seized several of Chamberlain’s finest horses. He thinks the Cardinal will eventually take everything from the nobles. Suffolk and Norfolk arrive and they all discuss the state of the King, who seems sad and upset and it seems due to the perilous state of his marriage to Queen Katherine, as Wolsey has suggested to the King that he could annul the marriage, since she was once the wife of his brother and has never produced that desired male heir. Suffolk suggests that the King has his eye on another lady. They are convinced that Wolsey is engineering the dissolution of the royal marriage and hope that the King will awaken to Wolsey’s wicked schemings. Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius, from Rome, meet with the King, who dismisses Norfolk and Suffolk abruptly, before learning that Rome may indeed offer him a way out of his 23 year marriage to Katherine. Henry plans to go to Blackfriars to make the formal announcement about ending his relationship to Katherine. Norfolk, Suffolk and Chamberlain, all powerful lords, are all convinced that is dangerous and untrustworthy. This dissolution of Henry’s marriage will cause a rupture in relations with Spain, from whence she came to England. Wolsey has engineered all of this so that Henry can marry the sister to the King of France. What he does not know is that his King fully intends to marry Anne Bullen.

Act II

Scene iii

London. The palace

Enter Anne Bullen and an old lady

Anne: “Here’s the pang that pinches: his Highness having lived so long with her, and she so good a lady that no tongue could ever pronounce dishonour of her. By my life, she never knew harm-doing and after this to give her the avaunt, it is a pity that would move a monster.”

Old Lady: “Hearts of most hard temper melt and lament for her.”

Anne: “O, God’s will! Much better she had never known pomp. Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce it from the bearer, tis a sufferance panging as soul and body’s severing.”

Old Lady: “Alas, poor lady! She’s a stranger now again.”

Anne: “So much the more must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear tis better to be lowly born than to wear a golden sorrow.”

Old Lady: “Our content is our best having.

Anne: “By my troth and maidenhead, I would not be a queen.”

Old Lady: “Beshrew me, I would, and so would you, for all this spice of your hypocrisy. You that have so fair parts of woman on you have too a woman’s heart, which ever yet affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; which are blessings.”

Anne: “Nay, good troth.”

Old Lady: “Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen!”

Anne: “No, not for all the riches under heaven.”

Old Lady: “But, I pray you, what thinks you of a duchess? Have you limbs to bear that load of title?”

Anne: “No, in truth.”

Old Lady: “Then you are weakly made.”

Anne: “How you do talk! I swear again I would not be a queen for all the world.”

Enter Lord Chamberlain

Chamberlain: “Good morrow, ladies. What were it worth to know the secret of your conference?”

Anne: “Our mistress’ sorrows we were pitying.”

Chamberlin: “There is hope all will be well.”

Anne: “Now, I pray God, amen!”

Chamberlain: “You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, perceive I speak sincerely, the King’s Majesty commends his good opinion of you to you, and does purpose honour to you no less flowing than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which title a thousand pounds a year, annual support, out of his Grace he adds.”

Anne: “I do not know what kind of my obedience I should tender; prayers and wishes are all I can return. Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, as from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness; whose health and royalty I pray for.”

Chamberlain: “Lady, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit the King has for you.” (aside) “I have perused her well: beauty and honour in her age so mingled that they have caught the King; and who knows yet but from this lady may proceed a gem to lighten all this isle.” “I’ll to the King and say I spoke with you.”

Anne: “My honoured lord!”

Exit Chamberlain

Old Lady: “Why this is it: see, see! I have been begging sixteen years in court; and you, O fate!”

Anne: “This is strange to me.”

Old Lady: “The Marchioness of Pembroke! A thousand pounds a year! By my life, that promises more thousands. By this time I know your back will bear a duchess.”

Anne: “Good lady, make yourself mirth with your particular fancy and leave me out of it. It faints me to think what follows. The Queen is comfortless. Pray, do not deliver what here you have heard to her.”

Old Lady: “What do you think me?”

Summary and Analysis

Anne Bullen and her elderly fellow attendant to the Queen, discuss the apparent downfall of Katherine. Anne is distressed that this lady of great honour is about to fall from grace and wishes that she herself will never rise to such heights. But contrary to her desire the King decides to bestow upon her a new title and an annual income. Buckingham is so taken with Ann that he prophecizes that one day from Anne ‘will proceed a gem, to light all this isle’. Clearly, he is referring to Queen Elizabeth, who Anne and Henry will beget. This is the only scene in which Anne is presented to us. She may not desire to ever be queen, but very soon that is precisely what she will become, following the demise of Katherine. Anne will be wife two of six for King Henry. He will not keep her long, but long enough for the birth of Elizabeth, which is her great claim to fame.

Act II

Scene IV

London. A hall in Blackfriars

Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, several bishops and priests, a Sergeant-at-Arms, a scribe, Cardinals Wolsey and Campeius, King Henry and Queen Katherine

Wolsey: “While our commission from Rome is read, let silence be commanded.”

King: “What’s the need? It has already publicly been read, and on all sides the authority allowed.”

Wolsey: “Be it so: proceed.”

Scribe: “Katherine Queen of England, come into the court.”

Katherine comes to he King and kneels at his feet.

Katherine: “Sir, I desire you do me right and just, and to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman and a stranger, born out of your dominions, having here no judge indifferent, nor no more assurance of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, in what have I offended you? What cause has my behaviour given to your displeasure, that thus you should proceed to put me off and take your good Grace from me? Heaven witness, I have been to you a true and humble wife. When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends have I not strove to love, although I knew he were my enemy? What friend of mine that had to him derived your anger did I continue in my liking? Sir, call to mind that I have been your wife in this obedience upward of twenty years, and have been blessed with many children by you. If, in the course and process of this time, you can report and prove it too against my honour, my bond to wedlock or my love and duty, against your sacred person, in God’s name, turn me away and let the foulest contempt shut door upon me, and so give me up to the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, the King, your father, was reputed for a prince most prudent, of an excellent and unmatched wit and judgment; Ferdinand, my father, King of Spain, was reckoned one of the wisest of princes that had reigned. They had gathered a wise council of every realm, that did debate this business, who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly beseech you, sir, to spare me till I may be by my friends in Spain advised, whose counsel I will implore.”

Wolsey: “You have here, lady, these reverend fathers, men of singular integrity and learning, to plead your cause.”

Campeius: “His Grace has spoken well and justly; therefore, madam, it is fit that this royal session do proceed and that, without delay, be heard.”

Queen Katherine: “Lord Cardinal, to you I speak.”

Wolsey: “Your pleasure, madam?”

Queen Katherine: “I am about to weep; but, thinking that we are a queen, certain the daughter of a king, my drops of tears I’ll turn to sparks of fire.”

Wolsey: “Be patient yet.”

Queen Katherine: “I will, when you are humble. I do believe, induced by potent circumstances, that you are my enemy, and you shall not be my judge; for it is you have blown this coal between my lord and me. Therefore I say again, I utterly abhor and from my soul refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious foe and think not at all a friend to truth.”

Wolsey: “I do profess you speak not like yourself. Madam, you do me wrong; I have no spleen against you, nor injustice for you or any; how far I have proceeded is warranted by a commission of Rome. You charge me that I have blown this coal: I do deny it. The King is present; if it be known to him that I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, and worthily, my falsehood! He knows I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him it lies to cure me, and the cure to remove these thoughts from you. I do beseech you, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking and to say so no more.”

Queen Katherine: “My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak to oppose your cunning. You are meek and humble-mouthed in full seeming, but your heart is crammed with arrogance and pride, and your words serve your will as it please yourself. Again I do refuse you for my judge and here, before you all, appeal unto the Pope, to bring my whole cause before his Holiness and to be judged by him.”

Queen Katherine curtsies to the King and departs

Campeius: “The Queen is obstinate, stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and disdainful to be tried by it; tis not well. She’s going away.”

King: “Call her again.”

Crier: “Katherine of England, come into the court.”

Queen Katherine: “I will not tarry; no, nor ever more upon this business my appearance make in any of their courts.”

Exit Queen Katherine

King: “Go thy ways, Kate. That man in the world that shall report he has a better wife, let him in nought be trusted for speaking false in that. Thou art alone – the queen of earthly queens. She’s noble born; and like her true nobility she has carried herself toward me.”

Wolsey: “Most gracious sir, in humblest manner I require your Highness that it should please you to declare in hearing of all these ears whether ever I did broach this business to your Highness, or laid any scruple in your way which might induce you to the question on it, or ever have to you spoke one the least word that might be to the prejudice of her present state, or touch of her good person?”

King: “My Lord Cardinal, I do excuse you; yea, upon my honour, I free you from it. You are not to be taught that you have many enemies who know not why thy are so. By some of these the Queen is put in anger. You are excused. You have ever wished the sleeping of this business; never desired it to be stirred. Now, what moved me to it, I will be bold with time and with your attention. Thus it came – give heed to it: my conscience first received a prick on certain speeches uttered by the French ambassador, who had been hither sent on the debating a marriage between the Duke of Orleans and our daughter Mary, and in the process of this business he did require a respite wherein he might the King his lord advertise whether our daughter were legitimate, respecting this our marriage with sometimes our brother’s wife. This respite shook the bosom of my conscience, entered me, and made to tremble the region of my breast. First, methought I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had commanded nature that my lady’s womb, if it conceived a male child by me, should do more offices of life to it than the grave does to the dead; for her male issue died where they were made. Hence I thought a thought that was a judgment on me. Then follows that I weighed the danger which my palms stood in by this my issue’s fail, and that gave to me many a groaning throe. Thus in the wild sea of my conscience, I did steer toward this remedy, whereupon we are now present here together. I meant to rectify my conscience, when I then did feel full sick. First, I began in private with you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember how under my oppression I did reek, when I first moved you.”

Lincoln: “Very well, my liege. The question did at fist so stagger me – bearing a state of mighty moment in it and consequence of dread – that I committed the most daring council which you are running here.”

King: “I then moved you, my Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave to make this present summons. For no dislike in the world against the person of the good Queen drives this forward. Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life and kingly dignity, we are contented to wear our mortal state to come with her.”

Campeius: “So please your Highness, the Queen being absent, tis a needful fitness that we adjourn this court till further day.”

King: (Aside) “I may perceive these cardinals trifle with me. I abhor this sloth and tricks of Rome. My learned and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, prithee return. With thy approach I know my comfort comes along – break up the court, I say.”

Summary and Analysis

Many court officials meet at Blackfriars to address the case of King Henry and Queen Katherine’s marriage. She gives a passionate speech asking Henry how she has offended him over the 23 years of marriage. She contends that both their fathers were very wise men when they confirmed the righteousness and legality of their marriage. She then addresses Cardinal Wolsey as her enemy, as she believes he is the cause of this critique of the legitimacy of their marriage. She will not allow him to be the judge in these affairs, as she does not trust him. Wolsey denies that he has anything to do with ending their marriage and asks the King to support him in this, which he does. Katherine wants nothing further to do with these proceedings, believing that she has no power to affect their outcome, and walks out of the room. The King praises her virtues and then explains his concern about the legitimacy of their marriage. Apparently a French ambassador came to inquire about his daughter, Princess Mary, but expressed concerns about her legitimacy. Then he began thinking that perhaps the reason why Queen Katherine had so many stillbirths and produced only a female heir was because his marriage was not deemed legitimate by God, as Katherine had earlier been married to his brother and somewhere in the bible it says you may not marry your deceased brother’s wife. Hence he is seeking a divorce, although he still loves her dearly. So he is done with her, and nothing she can say or do can change this. He does not even reply to her pleas, but rather lets the cardinals answer her. Wolsey clearly wants this marriage to end so that he can arrange for Henry to marry the sister to the King of France. But as we know, the King has other plans. The Cardinal is very unpopular with the nobles and the commoners and he will be the next to fall, following Buckingham and Katherine.

Act III (2 scenes)

Scene i

London. The Queen’s apartments.

Enter the Queen and a gentleman

Gentleman: “The two great cardinals await your presence.”

Queen Katherine: “What can be their business with me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour? I do not like their coming. They should be good men, but all hoods make not monks.

Enter the two cardinals

Wolsey: “Peace to your Highness!”

Queen Katherine: “What are you pleasures with me, reverend lords?”

Wolsey: “May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw into your private chamber.”

Queen Katherine: “Speak it here; there is nothing I have done yet, o my conscience, that deserves a corner. My lords, I care not if my actions were tried by every tongue, and every eye saw them; I know my life so even. If your business seeks me out, out with it boldly.”

Wolsey: “Noble lady, we come not by the way of accusation, nor to betray you any way to sorrow – You have too much, good lady; but to know how you stand minded in the weighty difference between the King and you, and to deliver our just opinions and comforts to your cause.”

Campeius: “Most honoured madam, my Lord of York, out of his noble nature, forgetting, like a good man, your late censure, both of his truth and him, offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, his service and his counsel”

Queen Katherine: (aside) “To betray me” – “My lords, I thank you both; ye speak like honest men; pray God you prove so! But how to make ye suddenly an answer, in such a point of weight, so near my honour, more near my life, I fear, with my weak wit, and to such men of gravity and learning, in truth I know not. Alas, I am a woman, friendless and hopeless!”

Wolsey: “Madam, you wrong the King’s love with these fears; your hopes and friends are infinite.”

Queen Katherine: “In England can you think, lords, that any Englishmen dare give me counsel or be a known friend, against his Highness’ pleasure? Nay, forsooth, my friends, they that my trust must grow to, live not here; they are, as all my other comforts, far hence, in my own country, lords.”

Campeius: “Put your main cause into the King’s protection; he’s loving and most gracious.”

Wolsey: “He tells you rightly.”

Queen Katherine: “Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet: there sits a judge who no king can corrupt.”

Campeius: “Your rage mistakes us.”

Queen Katherine: “The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, upon my soul; but cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye. I will not wish thee half my miseries. Take heed, for heaven’s sake take heed, lest at once the burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.”

Wolsey: “Madam, you turn the good we offer into envy.”

Queen Katherine: “Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye. Would you have me put my sick cause into his hands who hates me? Alas! He has banished me from his bed already. What can happen to me above this wretchedness?”

Campeius: “Your fears are worse.”

Queen Katherine: “Have I lived this long a wife, a true one? A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections loved him, obeyed him and almost forgot my prayers to content him, and am thus rewarded?”

Wolsey: “Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.”

Queen Katherine: “My lord, I dare not give up willingly that noble title your master wed me to: nothing but death shall ever divorce my dignities.”

Wolsey: “Pray, hear me.”

Queen Katherine: “Would I had never trod this English earth, or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angel’s faces, but heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady? I am the most unhappy woman living. Shipwrecked upon a kingdom, where no pity, no friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me. I’ll hang my head and perish.”

Wolsey: “If your Grace could but be brought to know our ends are honest, you’d feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady, upon what cause, wrong you? We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. Pray think us peace-makers, friends and servants.”

Campeius: “Madam, you’ll find it so. The King loves you; beware you lose it not. For us, we are ready to use our utmost studies in your service.”

Queen Katherine: “Do what ye will, my lords; you know I am a woman, lacking wit to make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray do my service to his Majesty; he has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers while I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, bestow your counsels on me; she now begs that little thought, when she set footing here, she should have bought her dignities so dear.”

Summary and Analysis

Cardinals Wolsey and Campeius come to see the Queen, but not to further accuse her but to offer advice regarding the dissolution of her marriage to he King. Their advice is that she trust the King to look after her after the divorce. They claim to want to help cure her suffering by ensuring that she remain in the King’s good graces since he loves her still. Katherine sees through the Cardinals’ banter and knows that they are not there to help her. She tells them that they are corrupt and reminds them that there is a higher judge above them in heaven. She is appalled at their suggestion that she put her hope and faith into the very man who has rejected her, even though she was never anything to him but loving and loyal and now wishes she had never come to England. Clearly Katherine will not be disposed of as serenely as Buckingham. She has done nothing wrong except not to have produced a male heir, which may be just an excuse so that he can fulfill his attraction to Ann Bullen, with the help of the cardinals and the church. Once again, anyone who stands in the way of the birth of the future Queen Elizabeth must be sacrificed in this play, and it’s now two down and one to go.

Act III

Scene ii

London. The palace.

Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey and the Lord Chamberlain.

Norfolk: “If you will now unite in your complaints and force them with a constancy, the Cardinal cannot stand under them.”

Surrey: “I am joyful to be revenged on him.”

Suffolk: “When did he regard the stamp of nobleness in any person outside of himself?”

Chamberlain: “My lords, what he deserves of you and me I know; what we can do to him I much fear. If you cannot bar his access to the King, never attempt anything on him; for he has a witchcraft over the King in his tongue.”

Norfolk: “O, fear him not! His spell in that is out; the King has found matters against him.”

Surrey: “Sir, I should be glad to hear such news as this once every hour.”

Norfolk: “Believe it, this is true: in the divorce his country proceedings are all unfolded; wherein he appears as I would wish my enemy.”

Suffolk: “The Cardinal’s letters to the Pope miscarried, and came to the eye of the King; wherein was read how that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness to stay the judgment of the divorce; for if it did take place ‘I do’ quote he ‘perceive my King is tangled in affection to a creature of the Queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen.”

Chamberlain: “The King already has married the fair lady.”

Suffolk: “There’s order given for her coronation. She is a gallant creature, and complete in mind and fear. I persuade me from her will fall some blessing to this land.”

Surrey: “But will the King digest this letter of the Cardinal’s? The Lord forbid!”

Suffolk: “No, no; there will be more wasps that buzz about his nose will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius is stolen away to Rome.”

Norfolk: “He is returned, in his opinions; which have satisfied the King for his divorce. Shortly, I believe, his second marriage shall be published. Katherine no more shall be called queen.”

Enter Wolsey and Cromwell

Suffolk: “The Cardinal!”

Norfolk: “Observe, observe, he’s moody.”

Wolsey: “The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the King?”

Cromwell: “To his own hand, in his bedchamber.”

Wolsey: “Looked he on the inside of the paper?”

Cromwell: “He did unseal them; and the first he viewed, he did it with a serious mind; a heed was in his countenance. You he bade attend him here this morning.”

Wolsey: “Leave me awhile.”

Exit Wolsey and Cromwell separately.

Wolsey: (aside) “It shall be to the French King’s sister; he shall marry her. Anne Bullen! No, I’ll no Anne Bullen for him. Speedily I wish to hear from Rome.”

Norfolk: “He’s discontented.”

Suffolk: “Maybe he hears the King does whet his anger to him.”

Wolsey: (aside) “The late Queen’s gentlewoman, a knight’s daughter, to be her mistress’ mistress! The Queen’s Queen! This candle burns not clear. Tis I must snuff it; then out it goes. I know her for a sleepy Lutheran; and not wholesome to our cause that she should lie in the bosom of our hard-ruled King. And there is sprung up a heretic, Cranmer, who has crawled into the favour of the King, and is now his oracle.”

Norfolk: “He is vexed at something.”

Enter the King

Suffolk: “The King, the King!”

King: “What piles of wealth has he accumulated to his own portion? And what expense by the hour seems to flow from him! Now, my lords, saw you the Cardinal?”

Norfolk: “My lord, we have stood here observing him. Some strange commotion is in his brain. In most strange postures we have seen him set himself.”

King: “It may well be there is a mutiny in his mind. This morning papers of state he sent me to peruse I found there – put unwillingly? Forsooth, an inventory of his treasure, which I find at such proud rate that it outspeaks possession of a subject.”

Norfolk: “Its heaven’s will; some spirit put this paper in the packet to bless your eye withal.”

Re-enter the Cardinal

Wolsey: “God bless your Highness.”

King: “Good, my lord, you are full of heaven stuff. You have scarce time to steal from spiritual leisure a brief span to keep your earthly audit; I deem you an ill husband and am glad to have you therein my companion.”

Wolsey: “For holy offices I have a time.”

King: “And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you: since I had my office I have kept you next to my heart, to bestow my bounties upon you.”

Wolsey: (aside) “What should this mean?”

King: “Have I not made you the prime man of the state? Say withal if you are bound to us or no.”

Wolsey: “My sovereign, I confess your royal graces, showered on me daily, have been more than could my studied purposes requite. My own ends have been mine so that evermore they pointed to the good of your most sacred person and the profit of the state. For your great graces heaped upon me, poor undeserved, I can nothing render but allegiant thanks; my prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty, which ever has and ever shall be growing, till death, that winter, kill it.”

King: “Fairly answered! A loyal and obedient subject is therein illustrated. I presume that, as my hand has opened bounty to you, my heart dropped love, my power rained honour, more on you than any, so your hand and heart, your brain, and every function of your power should be more to me, your friend, than any.”

Wolsey: “I do profess that for your Highness’ good I ever laboured more than my own.”

King: “Tis nobly spoken. Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, for you have seen him open it. Read over this:”

The King gives Wolsey papers.

King: “And after, this; and then to breakfast with what appetite you have.”

Exit the King, frowning upon the Cardinal

Wolsey: “What should this mean? What sudden anger is this? He parted frowning at me, as if ruin leaped from his eyes. I must read this paper; I fear, the story of his anger. Tis so; this paper has undone me. Tis the account of all that world of wealth I have drawn together for my own ends; indeed, to gain the Popedom, and fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, fit for a fool to fall by! Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his brains? Nay, then farewell! I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, and from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting. I shall fall like a bright exhalation in the evening, and no man see me more.”

Enter Norfolk, Suffolk, Surrey and Chamberlain

Norfolk: “Hear the King’s pleasure, Cardinal, who commands you to render up the great seal presently into our hands, and to confine yourself till you hear further from his Highness.”

Wolsey: “Now I feel of what coarse metal ye are moulded – envy; how eagerly ye follow my disgraces, as if it fed ye; and how sleek and wanton ye appear in everything may bring my ruin! Follow our envious courses, men of malice.”

Surrey: “Thou art a proud traitor, priest. Thy ambition, thou scarlet sin, robbed this bewailing land of noble Buckingham, my father in law. The heads of all thy brother cardinals weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!”

Wolsey: “This, and all else this talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer is most false. The Duke by law found his desserts; how innocent I was from any private malice in his end.”

Surrey: “By my soul, your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should feel my sword in the life-blood of thee else. My lords, can ye endure to hear this arrogance? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, to be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, farewell nobility!”

Wolsey: “All goodness is poison to thy stomach.”

Surrey: “Yes, that goodness of gleaning all the land’s wealth into one, into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion; the goodness of your intercepted packets you wrote to the Pope against the King. My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble and respect the common good, produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles collected from his life.”

Wolsey: “How much, methinks, I could despise this man, but that I am bound in charity against it!”

Norfolk: “Those articles, my lord, are in the King’s hand; but, thus much, they are foul ones.”

Wolsey: “So much fairer and spotless shall my innocence arise, when the King knows my truth.”

Surrey: “This cannot save you. Now, if you can blush and cry guilty, cardinal, you’ll show a little honesty. Without the King’s assent or knowledge you wrought to be a legate.”

Norfolk: “In all you wrote to Rome, you brought the King to be your servant.”

Suffolk: “Without the knowledge of either King or council you went ambassador to the Emperor. Out of mere ambition you caused your holy hat to be stamped on the King’s coin.”

Surrey: “Then you have sent innumerable substance to furnish Rome to the mere undoing of all the kingdom. Many more there are, which, since they are odious, I will not taint my mouth with.”

Chamberlain: “O my lord, press not a falling man too far! His faults lie open to the laws, let them, not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him so little of his great self.”

Surrey: “I forgive him.”

Suffolk: “Lord Cardinal, the King’s further pleasure is – because all those things you have done of late – that therefore such a writ be sued against you: to forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, chattels, and whatsoever, and to be out of the King’s protection. This is my charge.”

Norfolk: “And so we’ll leave you to your meditations how to live better. So fair you well, my little good Lord Cardinal.”

Exit all but Wolsey

Wolsey: “So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! this is the state of man: today he puts forth the tender leaves of hopes; tomorrow blossoms and bears his blushing honours thick upon him; the third day comes a frost, a killing frost, and when he thinks full surely his greatness is ripening he falls, as I do. I have ventured, this many summers in a sea of glory; but far beyond my depth. My high blown pride at length broke under me, and now has left me, weary and old with service. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye; I feel my heart new-opened. O, how wretched is that poor man who hangs on princes’ favours! When he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.”

Enter Cromwell

Cromwell: “I have no power to speak, sir.”

Wolsey: “What, amazed at my misfortunes?”

Cromwell: “How does your Grace?”

Wolsey: “Why, well; I know myself now, and I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me, and from these shoulders, out of pity, taken a load would sink a navy – O, tis a burden, Cromwell, tis a burden too heavy for a man who hopes for heaven!”

Cromwell: “I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it.”

Wolsey: “I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, out of a fortitude of soul I feel, to endure more miseries and greater far than my week-hearted enemies dare offer. What news?”

Cromwell: “The heaviest and the worst is your displeasure with the King. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place.”

Wolsey: “That’s somewhat sudden. May he continue long in his Highness’ favour, and do justice for truth’s sake and his conscience. What more?”

Cromwell: “That Cranmer is returned with welcome, installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.”

Wolsey: “That’s news indeed.”

Cromwell: “Last, that the Lady Anne, whom the King has in secrecy long married, this day was viewed in open as his Queen; and the voice is now only about her coronation.”

Wolsey: “There was the weight that pulled me down. Go get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now to be thy lord and master. Seek the King; that sun, I pray, may never set! He will advance thee; good Cromwell, neglect him not, and provide for thy own future safety.”

Cromwell: “O, my lord, must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo so good, so noble and so true a master? That King shall have my service; but my prayers forever and forever shall be yours.”

Wolsey: “Cromwell, I did nothing to shed a tear in all my miseries, but thou has forced me, out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let’s dry our eyes, Cromwell. I charge thee, fling away ambition: by that sin fell the angels. Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace to silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; let all the ends thou aims at be thy country’s, thy God’s, and truths; then, if thou falls, O Cromwell, thou falls a blessed martyr! Serve the King, take an inventory of all I have to the last penny; tis the King’s. My robe, and my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my King, he would not in my age have left me naked to my enemies.”

Cromwell: “Good sir, have patience.”

Wolsey: “So I have. Farewell. My hopes in heaven do dwell.”

Summary and Analysis

Norfolk suggests to several lords that they unite their grievances against Cardinal Wolsey now that he has become exposed for his under-handed scheming about King Henry’s divorce. Apparently Wolsey petitioned to the Pope that he forbid the divorce until Wolsey can convince Henry to marry the sister of the King of France rather than Anne Bullen. Suffolk speaks fondly of Anne, believing that one day ‘from her will fall some blessings to this land.’ Indeed, this play is all about Henry and Anne producing Princess and future Queen Elizabeth. Wolsey arrives and insists that he will ensure Henry shall never marry Anne. Hence, he is doomed. Henry arrives and banters with Wolsey about loyalty and service and then hands him the letters Wolsey sent to the Pope that were intercepted and presented to Henry and a second letter describing Wolsey’s immense wealth. The Cardinal immediately realizes that he is finished, as several lords inform him that he is to resign his post and be confined in his home. They also present him with various dangerous accusations and then depart to inform the King of everything. Alone, Wolsey offers meditations of the fate of man. Cromwell arrives and commiserates with Wolsey, who claims to be at peace. Informed by Cromwell that the King has married Anne Bullen, the Cardinal weeps and advises Cromwell to ‘fling away ambition, to love himself last, to cherish those who hate him, and to be just’. His hopes now in heaven dwell. Cardinal Wolsey has gone the way of Lord Buckingham and Queen Katherine. In the final analysis he appears to have redeemed himself in his contrite confessions and advise to Cromwell. All three condemned characters learn something about themselves and their predicament before their final demise. However, just previous to his contrition were boastful and devious responses to the accusations from the lords and professed innocence and loyalty to the King himself. Farewell Wolsey.

Act IV (2 scenes)

Scene I

A street in Westminster

Enter two gentlemen

1 Gentleman: “You come to take your stand here and behold the Lady Anne pass from her coronation?”

2 Gentleman: “Tis all my business. At our last encounter the Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.”

1 Gentleman: “Tis very true. But that time offered sorrow; this, general joy.”

2 Gentleman: “Tis well. The citizens have shown full their royal minds in celebration of this day with shows, pageants and sights of honour.”

1 Gentleman: “Never greater.”

2 Gentleman: “May I be bold to ask what that contains, that paper in your hand?”

1 Gentleman: “Yes; tis the list of those who claim their offices this day, by custom of the coronation. The Duke of Suffolk claims to be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, he to be Earl Marshall.”

2 Gentleman: “But, I beseech you, what’s become of Katherine? How goes her business?”

1 Gentleman: “That I can tell you too. She was divorced, since which she was removed to Kimbolton, where she remains now sick.”

2 Gentleman: “Alas, good lady! The trumpet sounds. Stand close, the Queen is coming. (looking on the Queen) Heaven bless thee! Thou has the sweetest face I ever looked on. She is an angel and I cannot blame his conscience.”

Enter a third gentleman

1 Gentleman: “God save you, sir! Where have you been?”

3 Gentleman: “Among the crowd in the Abbey, where a finger could not be wedged in more.”

2 Gentleman: “You saw the ceremony?”

3 Gentleman: “That I did.”

1 Gentleman: “How was it?”

3 Gentleman: “Well worth the seeing.”

2 Gentleman: “Good sir, speak it to us.”

3 Gentleman: “As well as I am able. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman who ever lay by man. Such joy I never saw before.”

2 Gentleman: “But what followed?”

3 Gentleman: At length her Grace rose, came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like cast her fair eyes to heaven, and prayed devoutly. By the Archbishop of Canterbury she had all the royal makings of a queen: as holy oil, Edward Confessor’s crown, the rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems played nobly on her; which performed, the choir, with all the choicest music of the kingdom. So she parted, back again to York Place, where the feast is held.”

1 Gentleman: “Sir, you must no more call it York Place: that’s past; for since the Cardinal fell that title’s lost. Tis now the King’s, and called Whitehall.”

Summary and Analysis

These two gentlemen meet on the street and discuss Queen Anne and her coronation. They are both quite enamoured with Anne. A third gentleman arrives who has just witnessed the coronation and tells them how beautiful Anne appeared and how absolutely packed the Abbey was. Once again these gentlemen represent the general population and just how keen the citizens are to hear news from the court.

Act IV

Scene ii

Kimbolton

Enter Katherine, with Griffith, her gentleman, and Patience, her lady.

Griffith: “How does your Grace?”

Katherine: “O Griffith, sick to death! My legs like loaded branches bow to the earth, willing to leave their burden. Did thou not tell me that the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, was dead?”

Griffith: “Yes, madam.”

Katherine: “Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died. If well, he stepped before me, happily, for my example.”

Griffith: “Well, madam, after the stout Earl of Northumberland arrested him at York and brought him forward, as a man sorely tainted, to his answer, he fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill he could not sit his mule.

Katherine: “Alas, poor man!”

Griffith: “At last he came to Leicester, lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot honourably received him; to whom he gave these words: ‘O father Abbot, an old man, broken with the storms of state, is come to lay his weary bones among ye. Give him a little earth for charity!’ So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness pursued him still. And three nights after this, full of repentance, continual meditations, tears and sorrows, his blessed parts went to heaven, and slept in peace.”

Katherine: “So may he rest. Griffith, give me leave to speak of him yet with charity. He was a man ever ranking himself with princes; his own opinion was his law. In the presence he would say untruths and be forever double both in his words and meaning. He was never pitiful. His promises were mighty; but his performance nothing. He gave the clergy ill example.”

Griffith: “Noble madam, may it please your Highness to hear me speak his good now?”

Katherine: “Yes, good Griffith.”

Griffith: “This Cardinal was a scholar and a ripe and good one; exceedingly wise, fair spoken and persuading; lofty and sour to them who loved him not. And though he was unsatisfied in getting – which was a sin – yet in bestowing, madam, he was most princely; and, to add greater honours to his age, he died fearing God.”

Katherine: “After my death I wish no other herald. Griffith, peace be with him! Patience, be near me still; I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, cause the musicians to play me that sad note, while I sit meditating on that celestial harmony I go to.”

Sad and solemn music

Griffith: “She is asleep. Good Patience, let’s sit quietly, for fear we wake her.”

The Vision: Enter six personages clad in white robes and golden vizards on their faces. The first two hold a spare garland over her head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies. As it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holds up her hands to heaven. And so in their dancing thy vanish.

Katherine: “Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?”

Griffith: “Madam, we are here.”

Katherine: “It is not you I call for. Saw ye none enter since I slept?”

Griffith: “None, madam.”

Katherine: “No? They promised me eternal happiness, and brought me garlands.”

Griffith: “I am much joyful, madam, such good dreams possess your fancy.”

Patience: “Do you note how much her Grace is altered on the sudden? How pale she looks, and of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes.”

Griffith: “She is going, wench. Pray, pray.”

Patience: “Heaven comfort her.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “There is a gentleman, sent from the King, to see you.”

Katherine: “Admit him entrance, Griffith.”

Enter Lord Capucius

Katherine: “If my sight fail not, you should be the Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, my royal nephew, and your name Capucius.”

Capucius: “Madam, the same – your servant.”

Katherine: “I pray you, what is your pleasure with me?”

Capucius: “Noble lady, first, my own service to your Grace; next, the KIng’s request that I would visit you, who grieves much for your weakness, and by me sends you his princely commendations and heartily entreats you to take good comfort.”

Katherine: “O my good lord, that comfort comes too late; tis like a pardon after execution; I am past all comforts here but prayers. How does his Highness?”

Capucius: “Madam, in good health.”

Katherine: “So may he ever do! And ever flourish when I shall dwell with worms and my poor name banished from the kingdom! Patience, is that letter I caused you to write yet sent away?”

Patience: “No, madam.”

Giving the letter to Katherine

Katherine: “Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver this to my lord the King, in which I have commended to his goodness the model of our chase loves, his young daughter – the dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her – beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding – she is young and of a noble and modest nature. Urge the King to do me this last right.”

Capucius: “By heaven, I will.”

Katherine: “I thank you, honest lord. Remember me in all humility unto his Highness; say that his long trouble now is passing out of this world. Tell him in death I blessed him, for so I will. My eyes grow dim. Farewell, my lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience, you must not leave me yet. I must to bed; call in more women. When I am dead strew me over with maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me, although unqueened, yet like a queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. I can no more.”

Summasy and Analysis

Katherine learns from her servants all about the death of Cardinal Wolsey, who died a sick and broken man. She tries to be charitable but does insist that he was opinionated, untruthful and a poor example of a clergyman. Griffith, her gentleman, speaks well of him as a scholar and claims he died a God fearing man. Katherine wishes him peace ‘in his ashes’. She falls asleep and has visions of persons in white robes dancing around her. When she wakes they are gone. Her attendants believe this vision to be a very good sign, as she is approaching the end of her life. An ambassador from Katherine’s father in Spain arrives, having been sent by Henry to check on her. She claims it is too late, as she is dying. She offers him a letter for the King, in which she pleads on behalf of their daughter, Mary, that she be well cared for, being of a noble and modest nature. This will be Bloody Queen Mary, the second of King Henry’s three children to assume the throne, the third being Queen Elizabeth.

Act V (5 scenes)

Scene I

London. The palace.

Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a pageboy and Sir Thomas Lovell.

Gardiner: “It’s one o’clock boy, isn’t it?”

Page: “It has struck.”

Gardiner: “These should be hours for necessities; times to repair our nature with comforting repose. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas!”

Lovell: “Came you from the King, my lord?”

Gardiner: “I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero with the Duke of Suffolk.”

Lovell: “I must to him too. I’ll take my leave.”

Gardiner: “What’s the matter? It seems you are in haste. Affairs that walk – as they say spirits do – at midnight, have in them a wilder nature than the business that seeks dispatch by day.

Lovell: “My lord, I love you, and do commend a secret to your ear. The Queen is in labour, they say in great extremity, and feared she’ll with the labour end.”

Gardiner: “The fruit she goes with I pray for heartily.”

Lovell: “Methinks I could cry thee amen; my conscience says she’s a good creature, and, sweet lady, does deserve our better wishes.”

Gardiner: “Hear me, Sir Thomas. I know you wise and religious; and, let me tell you, it will never be well till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, sleep in their graves.”

Lovell: “Now, sir, you speak of two of the most remarked in the kingdom. As for Cromwell, he is made Master of the Rolls and the King’s secretary. The Archbishop is the King’s hand and tongue, and who dares speak one syllable against him?”

Gardiner: “Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, there are that dare; and I myself have ventured to speak my mind of him; and indeed this day I think I have incensed the lords of the council that he is – for so I know he is – a most arch heretic, a pestilence who does infect the land. The King has so far given ear to our complaint. He’s a rank weed, Sir Thomas, and we must root him out.”

Enter the King and the Duke of Suffolk

King: “Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?”

Lovell: “Her sufferance made almost each pang a death.”

Suffolk: “God safely quit her of her burden and to the gladding of your Highness with an heir!”

Enter Sir Anthony Denny

Denny: “Sir, I have brought my lord, the Archbishop, as you commanded me.”

King: “Ha! Canterbury?”

Denny: “Ay, my good lord.”

King: “Bring him to us.”

Re-enter Denny with Cranmer

Cranmer: (aside) “I am fearful – wherefore frowns he thus? Tis his aspect of terror. All’s not well.”

King: “How now, my lord? Pray you, arise, my good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you; come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, and am right sorrow to repeat what follows. I have, and most unwillingly, of late heard many grievous complaints of you; which, being considered, have moved us and our council that you shall this morning come before us. Till further trial in those charges which will require your answer, you must take your patience to you and be well contented to make your house our Tower.”

Cranmer: “I know there’s none stands under more calumnious tongues than I myself.”

King: “Stand up, good Canterbury; thy truth and thy integrity is rooted in us, thy friend. Give me thy hand; prithee, let’s walk. My lord, I looked you would have given me your petition that I should have taken some pains to bring together yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you without endurance further.”

Cranmer: “Most dread liege, the good I stand on is my truth and honesty; I fear nothing that can be said against me.”

King: “Know you not how your state stands in the world? Your enemies are many, and not small; you are potently opposed, and with a malice of as great size.”

Cranmer: “God and your majesty protect my innocence, or I fall into the trap that is laid for me!”

King: “Be of good cheer; they shall no more prevail than we give way to. Keep comfort to you, and this morning see you do appear before them. If entreaties will render you no remedies, this ring deliver them, and your appeal to us there make before them. Get you gone, and do as I have bid you.

Exit Cranmer

King: “Now, by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the Queen delivered? Say ay, and of a boy.”

Old Lady: “Ay, ay, my liege; and of a lovely boy. The God of heaven both now and ever bless her! Tis a girl, promises boys hereafter. Sir, your Queen desires your visitation, and to be acquainted with this stranger; tis as like you as cherry is to cherry.”

Summary and Analysis

We learn from Lovell that Queen Anne is in labour. He believes she is not sufficiently royal to bear the King’s heirs. Gardiner goes even further, believing that England will not be secure until she is dead, along with Cranmer and Cromwell. They are pleased that Cranmer will be appearing before the King’s council and denounced as a heretic. The King meets with Cranmer and assures him that he remains in the King’s favour, regardless of the many powerful enemies who surround him at court. Nonetheless, he will need to reside in the Tower until he addresses the charges. Henry gives him a royal ring to show the council if they are about to send him to his death, so that the King would then intervene and hear his appeal. An old lady appears to tell the King that his child has been born. He demands to know if it is a boy and at first she claims it is and then corrects herself, and he hurries to see the baby Elizabeth, the real star of the play. The nurse did not merely mistakenly identify Elizabeth as a male. It is an indication that she will reign as well as any man one day soon.

Act V

Scene ii

Lobby before the Council Chamber

Enter Cranmer (Archbishop of Canterbury)

Cranmer: “I hope I am not too late. What means this? Who waits hear? Sure you know me?”

Enter keeper

Keeper: “Yes, my lord; but yet I cannot help you.”

Cranmer: “Why?”

Keeper: “Your Grace must wait till you be called for.”

Enter Doctor Butts

Cranmer: “Tis Butts, the King’s physician. For certain, this is of purpose laid by some who hate me – God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice – to quench my honour, they would shame to make me wait at the door, among boys, grooms and lackeys. But their pleasures must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience.”

Enter the King and Dr Butts at a window above.

Butts: “I’ll show your Grace the strangest sight.”

King: “What’s that, Butts?”

Butts: “There my lord: his Grace of Canterbury; holds his state at door, amongst pages and footboys.”

King: “Ha, tis him indeed. Tis well there’s one above him yet. I had thought they had parted so much honesty among them – at least good manners – as not thus to suffer a man of his place, and so near our favour. By holy Mary, Butts, there’s knavery! Let them alone, and draw the curtain close; we shall hear more anon.”

Summary and Analysis

Cranmer arrives for the council meeting but is informed he must wait outside with the grooms and lackeys. Obviously something is afoot. The King and his doctor, Butts, (yes… Dr Butts!) watch from a window above as Cranmer is disgraced and Henry is unimpressed that someone so in his favour would be mistreated thus, referring to it as knavery. Henry also states that there is fortunately still one above them who will judge his fate, referring to either himself or God. The King does not intervene but merely watches and listens. Cranmer will be the first character under accusation who will survive their trials. Unlike Buckingham, Katherine or Wolsey, Cranmer has not committed any acts worthy of being demoted or destroyed. The charges against him are merely petty and personal. He also in no way stands in the way of the birth of Elizabeth.

Act V

Scene iii

The Council Chamber

Enter the Lord Chancellor, Suffolk, Norfolk, Surrey, Chamberlain, Gardiner, Cromwell and a keeper.

Chancellor: “Speak to the business, master secretary; why are we met in council?”

Cromwell: “The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.”

Norfolk: “Who waits there?”

Keeper: “My Lord Archbishop; and has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.”

Chancellor: “My good Lord Archbishop, I am very sorry to sit here at this present, but we are all men, in our own natures frail and capable of our flesh; few are angels; out of which frailty and want of wisdom, you, who best should teach us, have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little, toward the King first, then his laws, in filling the whole realm by your teaching – for so we are informed – with new opinions dangerous; which are heresies, and, not reformed, may prove pernicious.”

Gardiner: “Which reformation must be sudden too, my noble lords; for those who tame wild horses pace them not in their hands to make them gentle, but stop their mouths with stubborn bits and spur them till they obey the manage. if we suffer this contagious sickness, farewell all physic; and what follows then? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint of the whole state.”

Cranmer: “My good lords, in all of my life and office, I have laboured that my teaching was ever to do well. Nor is there living, my lords, a man who more detests defacers of a public peace than I do. Pray heaven the King may never find a heart with less allegiance in it!”

Gardiner: “My lord, we will be short with you. Tis our Highness’ pleasure and our content you be committed to the Tower; where, being but a private man again, you shall know many dare accuse you boldly, more than, I fear, you are provided for.”

Cromwell: “My lord of Winchester, you are a little too sharp; men so noble, however faulty, yet should find respect for what they have been.”

Gardiner: “You may, worst of all this table, say so.”

Cromwell: “Why, my lord?”

Gardiner: “You are not sound.”

Cromwell: “Would you were half so honest!”

Gardiner: “I shall remember this bold language.”

Cromwell: “Do remember your bold life too.”

Chancellor: “This is too much; forbear, for shame, my lords.”

Gardiner: “I have done.”

Cromwell: “And I.”

Chancellor: “Thus for you, my lord; it stands agreed, that forthwith you be conveyed to the Tower a prisoner; there to remain till the King’s further pleasure be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords?”

Gardiner: “What other would you expect? You are strangely troublesome.”

Enter the guard

Cranmer: “Must I go like a traitor thither?”

Gardiner: “Receive him, and see him safe in the Tower.”

Cranmer: “Stay, good my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there; by virtue of that ring I take my cause out of the gripes of cruel men and give it to a most noble judge, the King my master.”

Chamberlain: “This is the King’s ring.”

Suffolk: “I told you all, when we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, t’would fall upon ourselves.”

Enter he King, frowning on the lords.

Gardiner: “Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven in daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; not only good and wise but most religious.”

King: “You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not to hear such flattery, and in my presence they are too thin and bare to hide offences. Whatsoever thou takes me for, I am sure thou has a cruel nature and a bloody one. (to Cranmer) Good man, sit down.”

Surrey: “May it please your Grace -“

King: “No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought I had men of some understanding and wisdom in my council; but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, this good man – few of you deserve that title – this honest man, wait like a lousy footboy at chamber door? Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission forget yourselves? I gave you power as he was a councillor to try him, not as a groom. There are some of you, I see, more out of malice than integrity, would try him to the utmost, had you means; which you shall never have while I live. My lords, respect him; take him and use him well. He is worthy of it. I am for his love and service so to him. All embrace him; be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me: that is, a fair young maid who yet wants baptism; you must be godfather, and answer for her.”

Cranmer: “How may I deserve it, who am a poor and humble subject to you?”

King: “Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, embrace and love this man.”

Gardiner: “With a true heart and brother love I do it.”

Cranmer: “And let heaven witness how dear I hold this confirmation.”

King: “Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart. Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long to have this young one made a Christian.”

Summary and Analysis

Various powerful lord assemble and admit Cranmer, who is being interrogated for apparently having new ideas considered by some to be heresies. They are harsh with him and proceed to condemn him to the Tower. Cromwell speaks up in defence of Cramner and Gardiner continues with the condemnations. As Cranmer is being led away he indicates that he is wearing the King’s ring. The King is watching these proceedings from a window above the gathering and is unimpressed He comes down and condemns the lords for being unjust with Cranmer, who he insists is a good and honest man. He insists they all embrace as friends and then declares that Cranmer, as Archbishop of Canterbury, will officiate the baptism of Princess Elizabeth and stand as her godfather. King Henry intervenes on behalf of Cranmer, after allowing the council to have their way with Buckingham, Katherine and Wolsey.  Cranmer will not only baptize Elizabeth but will soon profoundly prophesize about her future role in the Kingdom.

Act V

Scene iv

The palace yard

Enter the porter and his man.

Porter: “You’ll leave your noise anon, you rascals. Do you take the court for a Paris garden? You rude slaves, leave your gaping. (from within: Good master Porter, I belong to the larder.) Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue! Is this a place to roar in? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?”

Man: “Pray, sir, be patient; tis as much impossible, unless we sweep them from the door with cannons.”

Porter: “How got they in?”

Man: “Alas, I know not: how gets the tide in?”

Porter: “You did nothing, sir.”

Man: “I am not Samson, to mow them down before me.”

Porter: “Keep the door closed, sirrah.”

Man: “What would you have me do?”

Porter: “What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? On my Christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse.”

Enter Lord Chamberlain

Chamberlain: “Mercy me, what a multitude are here! From all parts they are coming, as if we kept a fair here! Are all these your faithful friends of the suburbs?”

Porter: “We are but men; and what so many may do, we have done. An army cannot rule them.”

Chamberlain: “As I live, if the King blame me for it, I’ll lay you all by the heels and on your heads clap round fines for neglect. You are lazy knaves. Hark! The trumpets sound; they come already from the christening.”

Porter: “Make way there for the Princess.”

Summary and analysis

The porter and his man are trying to control the enormous crowds who have gathered to see the christening of Princess Elizabeth. It is a rowdy crowd, who have come from far and wide. The Lord Chamberlain arrives and scolds the porter for not having more control over the crowds, who behave as people do at the playhouses (a wink from the Bard). Once again, it is all about Elizabeth, as if all of England were somehow aware of how significant a role she will one day play in the kingdom.

Act V

Scene v

The palace

Enter Garter, Cranmer, Norfolk, Suffolk, aldermen, the mayor, nobles and ladies

Garter: “Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth!”

Enter the King

Cranmer: “To your royal Grace and the good Queen! All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady heaven ever laid up to make parents happy.”

King: “Thank you, good Lord Archbishop. What is her name?”

Cranmer: “Elizabeth.”

King: (he kisses the child) “With this kiss take my blessing; God protect thee, into whose hand I give thy life.”

Cranmer: “Amen.”

King: “My noble gossips, I thank you heartily. So shall this lady, when she has so much English.”

Cranmer: “Let me speak, sir, for heaven now bids me; and the words I utter let none think flattery, for they’ll find them truth. This royal infant, though in her cradle, yet now promises upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be – but few now living can behold that goodness – a pattern to all princes living with her, and all that shall succeed. All princely graces shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her, holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her; she shall be loved and feared. Good grows with her; in her days every man shall eat in safety under his own vine what he plants, and sing the merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. God shall be truly known; and those about her from her shall read the perfect ways of honour. Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when the bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, her ashes new create another heir as great in admiration as herself, so shall she leave her blessedness to one – when heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness – who from the sacred ashes of her honour shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, and so stand fix’d. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, that were the servants to this chosen infant, shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, his honour and the greatness of his name shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish, and like a mountain cedar reach his branches to all the plains about him; our children’s children shall see this and bless heaven.”

King: “Thou speaks wonders.”

Cranmer: “She shall be, to the happiness of England, an aged princess; many days shall see her, and yet no day without a deed to crown it. But she must die – the saints must have her – yet a virgin; and all the world shall mourn her.”

King: “O Lord Archbishop, thou has made me now a man; never before this happy child did I get anything. This oracle of comfort has so pleased me that when I am in heaven I shall desire to see what this child does, and praise my Maker. I thank you all. I am much beholding. Lead the way, lords; you must all see the Queen. This little one shall make it a holiday.”

Summary and Analysis

The final scene of the play is all about little Princess Elizabeth and it is here we see clearly why Cranmer had to survive the attack from the lords. He gives a most rousing speech about her future greatness and that of King James I, as well. Queen Elizabeth was already dead when Shakespeare wrote this play, but King James was on the throne and would have attended and heard these prophecies about himself, ‘an heir as great in admiration as herself, who from the sacred ashes of her honour shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, and so stand fixed.’ King Henry is astonished by the prophetic praise to Elizabeth spoken by Cranmer. ‘Thou speaks wonders… Thou has made me now a man.’ He still may not have a son, but his two daughters will be future monarchs of England, and Elizabeth will be the greatest one of all his three children. King Henry will live for another 14 years as the English monarch. In that time he will have 4 more wives and will grow paranoid and tyrannical. Edward, his son from his third wife, Jane Seymour, will be King from 1447-1553. His daughter Mary, from his first wife, Katherine of Aragon, will reign from 1553-1558, and Elizabeth, from his second wife, Anne Bullen, will be the Queen for 45 years, from 1558-1603, an era known as Elizabethan England.

Epilogue

“Tis ten to one this play can never please all that are here. Some come to take their ease and sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, we have frighted with our trumpets; so, tis clear, they’ll say tis nought; I fear, all the expected good we are like to hear for this play at this time is only in the merciful construction of good women; for such a one we showed them. If they smile and say twill do, I know within a while all the best men are ours; for tis ill hap if they hold when their ladies bid them clap.”

Summary and Analysis

The figure (Shakespeare?) fears not everyone will have been pleased by the play. Some may have come to sleep and were awoken by trumpets. Good women may appreciate the play since they just witnessed one such as themselves. He could be referring to Queen Katherine, Queen Anne or Princess Elizabeth and he hopes that when they clap their men will follow.

Final Thoughts

King Henry VIII is often overlooked. Written around 1613, only three years before Shakespeare’s death in 1616, this play, along with Two Noble Kinsman, bring a close to the most illustrious career in the history of theatre. There were 24 years between Titus Andronicus, his first stage production, and this. In between came the greatest comedic, historic and tragic productions of all time. But it had been many years since Shakespeare had scored with a widely regarded theatrical masterpiece. We might say that his final flood of excellence was between 1604-1606 with Othello, Macbeth, King Lear and Antony and Cleopatra, although Winter’s Tale (1610) and The Tempest (1611) would follow. Why has King Henry VIII been so slightly regarded? It was quite popular in Shakespeare’s day and again throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, as actors were attracted to such grand roles as Henry, Katherine and Wolsey. For some contemporary critics, the fact of its collaborative authorship devalues its status, even though some of its finest moments are firmly attributed to John Fletcher. The current consensus is that Shakespeare wrote I.i, I.ii, II.iii, II.iv, parts of III.ii and V.i. The character of King Henry is often criticized for not being sufficiently developed, as he is often more of an onlooker than an actual actor in the play. As well, the many grand pageantries, such as the masque at York Place (act I), the trial of Katherine at Blackfriars (act II), Anne’s coronation procession (act IV) and the christening of princess Elizabeth (act V) may be difficult to stage for moderate to smaller theatre companies. The Globe itself burned down in an attempt to stage all of these elaborate set pieces. Perhaps the fact that the play only covers a very brief period in Henry’s long and illustrious reign is seen as lacking in perspective. Or it could be that while 8 of Shakespeare’s 10 history plays are one continuous and inter-connected story, from Richard II right up to Richard III, both King John and King Henry VIII are stand alone efforts and are the very two that often get missed. Nonetheless, Henry VIII is a most fascinating play in its own right, even if it is hard to find a staged production. The language is excellent, as are the various superb speeches of regret, defiance and farewell on the part of the fallen characters. The demise of Buckingham, Katherine and Wolsey all clear the deck and pave the way for the real stars of the play, Princess Elizabeth and her successor and heir, James I, Shakespeare’s monarchs, who first watched this play to his own honour at Whitehall, his residence, which was in King Henry VIII’s time, York Palace, the scene of the masque from Act I. Shakespeare returned to Stratford upon Avon soon after the Globe Theatre burned down during a production of this play and never returned to London to write or perform again. He would collaborate one final time with John Fletcher for Two Noble Kinsmen before departing.

Shakespeare wrote Henry VIII with the assistance of Holinshed’s Chronicles. The play was very popular from 1613 onwards for its spectacular sets, casts of hundreds of extras, pyrotechnics, real horses, coaches and lavish costumes. Many famous productions were recorded at Drury lane and Covent gardens throughout both the 18th and 19th centuries and in Stratford upon Avon and the Old Vic in the early 20th century. Since then the play has not been regularly staged. On Youtube there is a 2021 zoom production by Plaguespeare and Company which is quite good. Other than that there is not very much available.

King John

Introduction

King John is generally regarded as the most obscure of the 10 history plays. It is not nearly as impressive as Richard II, Henry IV (parts I and II), Henry V, or Richard III and not as well developed or as captivating as Henry VI (parts I, II, III) or as spectacular a pageant as Henry VIII. It rarely gets staged or even read.

When it is revealed that Philip is actually the bastard son of King John’s brother and previous King, Richard the Lionheart, John immediately knights him and takes him under his tutelage. This bastard, Philip, swaggers throughout the court and the play with a mocking confidence. The bastard alone is a fully develop and impressive character, which makes him outshine all others in the play. He is one of Shakespeare’s earliest great protagonists. King John himself is buffoon-like and only on the throne because of the death of his well loved brother, Richard the Lionhearted, and the young age of Richard’s son, Arthur. John is, in fact, a terribly unpopular monarch, unfit to rule and despised by his own lords and his European neighbours, France and Austria. King John fumbles into a war with France and is excommunicated from the Catholic Church by the Pope. The King of France demands that he abdicate his throne and give it to his goodly nephew, Arthur. John imprisons Arthur as a false claimant to the throne, and orders his death, but his killer can’t bring himself to kill the saintly Arthur, who winds up killing himself trying to escape prison. The French invade England and Philip the Bastard fights heroically, while the ineffective King John is poisoned and dies. In many ways King John and the Bastard are mirror images of one another, moving in totally opposite directions. As John’s power is collapsing all around him the Bastard grows in prominence and heroism. Although thought of as a serious play, in performance King John can be presented as ironic and, at times, farcical, turning the king’s court into a pack of knaves.

The theme that ‘blood follows blood’ resonates throughout Shakespeare’s plays. Henry the IV is forever haunted by his responsibility for the death of Richard II. Richard III is destroyed as a result of his murderous tendencies and Henry VI is dripping with bloody scene after bloody scene. MacBeth, Hamlet, Lear, Antony and Cleopatra and Coriolanus all succumb to violent deaths following a trail of blood. Attaining the throne undeservedly is a sure fired way to guarantee your own bloody downfall and that is the fate awaiting the incompetent King John. He tries desperately to hold power by repressing and destroying a more legitimate rival in Arthur, King Richard the Lionheart’s son. External war and civil strife inevitably follows. All of Shakespeare’s other bastards, including King Lear’s Edmund, are tragically rendered. However, Philip is one Shakespearean bastard who prevails rather stunningly. King John may not be as polished or as highly regarded as the other histories but its themes of honour and suitability for the throne and the presentation of so well developed a character as Philip the Bastard in a play with plenty of energy have provided very attractive and compelling features which continue to resonate today. Although King John is remembered by history for his signing of the Magna Carta, Shakespeare never even references this.

Act I (1 scene)

Scene i

King John’s palace

Enter King John, Queen Elinor (his mother), Essex and Chatillon (ambassador from France)

King John: “Now say, Chatillon, what would France with us?”

Chatillon: “Thus speaks the King of France to his majesty, the borrowed majesty, of England.”

Elinor: “A strange beginning – ‘borrowed majesty’!”

King John: “Silence, good mother, hear the embassy.”

Chatillon: “Philip of France, in right and true behalf of thy deceased brother Geffrey’s son, Arthur, lays most lawful claim to this fair island, desiring thee to lay aside the sword which sways usurpingly, and put the same into young Arthur’s hand, thy nephew and right royal sovereign.”

King John: “What follows if we disallow of this?”

Chatillon: “Fierce and bloody war, to enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.”

King John: “Here have we war for war, and blood for blood – so answer France.”

Chatillon: “Then take my King’s defiance from my mouth.”

King John: “Bear mine to him and so depart in peace. For ere thou can report I will be there, the thunder of my canon shall be heard. So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath and sullen presage of your own decay. Farewell Chatillon.”

Exit Chatillon

Elinor: “What now, my son! Have I not ever said how that ambitious Constance would not cease until she had kindled France and all the world upon the right of her son?”

King John: “Our strong possession and our right for us!”

Elinor: “Your strong possession much more than your right; so much my conscience whispers in your ear, which none but heaven and you and I shall hear.”

Essex: “My liege, here is the strangest controversy come from the county to be judged by you that I ever heard.”

King John: “Let them approach.”

Enter Robert Falconbridge and Philip, his bastard brother.

Bastard: “Your faithful subject I, a gentleman and oldest son, as I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge.”

King John: “What art thou?”

Robert: “The son and heir to that same Faulonbridge.”

King John: “You came not of one mother then, it seems.”

Bastard: “Most certain of one mother, mighty king – that is well known – and, as I think, one father; but for the certain knowledge of that truth, I put you over to heaven and my mother.”

Elinor: “Out on thee, rude man! Thou does shame thy mother.”

Bastard: “I, madam? No. That is my brother’s plea, and none of mine; the which if he can prove, it pops me out at least from fair five-hundred pounds a year. Heaven guard my mother’s honour and my land!”

King John: “A good blunt fellow. Why does he lay claim to thy inheritance?”

Bastard: “I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slandered me with bastardy; but wherever I be as true begot or no, that still I lay upon my mother’s head; compare our faces and be judged thyself. If old Sir Robert did beget us both I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee.”

King John: ‘Why, what a madcap has heaven lent us here!”

Elinor: “He has a trick of Richard the Lionheart’s face; do you not read some tokens of my son in the large composition of this man?”

King John: “My eye has well examined his parts and finds them perfect Richard.”

Robert: “My gracious liege, when that my father lived your brother did employ my father much.”

Bastard: “Well, sir, your tale must be how he employed my mother.”

Robert: “And once dispatched him in an embassy in Germany. The advantage of his absence took the King, sojourned at my father’s, where how he did prevail I shame to speak – but truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores between my father and my mother lay when this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death-bed he by will bequeathed his lands to me, and took it on his death that this my mother’s son was none of his. Then, my good liege, let me have what is mine, my father’s land, as was my father’s will.”

King John: “Your father’s wife, if she did play false, the fault was hers; which felt lies on the hazards of all husband who marry wives. This concludes: my mother’s son did get your father’s heir.”

Elinor: “I like thee well. Will thou forsake thy fortune, bequeath thy land to him and follow me?”

Bastard: “Brother, take you my land, and I’ll take my chance. Madam, I’ll follow you unto the death.”

King John: “What is thy name?”

Basard: “Philip, my liege.”

King John: “From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bears: kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great – arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet.”

Bastard: “Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, when I was got, Sir Robert was away!”

Elinor: “The very spirit of Plantagenet! I am thy grandam, Richard: call me so.”

King John: “Go Faulconbridge, now thou has thy desire. Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed for France.”

Bastard: “Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! For thou was got in the way of honesty.”

Exit all but the Bastard.

“A foot of honour better than I was; but many a many foot of land the worse. But this is worshipful society, and fits the mounting spirit like myself. But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? What woman-post is this?”

Enter Lady Faulconbridge

Bastard: “O me, tis my mother! How now, good lady! What brings you here to the court so hastily?”

Lady Faulconbridge: “Where is that slave, thy brother?”

Bastard: “Is it Sir Robert’s son that you seek so?”

Lady Faulconbridge: “Ay, thy unreverend boy. He is Sir Robert’s son, and so art thou.”

Bastard: “Madam, I was not old Sir Robert’s son. Sir Robert could not do it. Therefore, good mother, to whom am I beholdened for these limbs?”

Lady Faulconbridge: “Has thou conspired with thy brother too? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?”

Bastard: “But, mother, I am not Sir Robert’s son: I have disclaimed Sir Robert and my land; and all is gone. Then, good my mother, let me know my father – some proper man, I hope. Who was it, mother?”

Lady Faulconbridge: “Has thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?”

Bastard: “As faithfully as I deny the devil.”

Lady Faulconbridge: “King Richard the Lionheart was thy father. By long and vehement suit was I seduced to make room for him in my husband’s bed. Thou art the issue of my dear offence, which was so strongly urged past my defence.”

Bastard: “Madam, I would not wish a better father. Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, and so does yours: your fault was not your folly. He that perforce robs lions of their hearts may easily win a woman’s. Ay, my mother, with all my heart I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say thou did not well when I was got, I’ll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin.”

Summary and Analysis

This first one scene act, per typical, lays out the foundation of the play. We see that France demands that King John abdicate in favour of his elder brother’s son, Arthur. When the king refuses, France as much as declares war on England. Even his own mother insists that his present possession of the crown presents a stronger case for keeping it then does his right to the crown itself. The question of his lack of legitimacy for the crown will plague him throughout his hapless reign. Next, the bastard arrives and we learn that he is, in fact, the son of King Richard the Lionheart, born of an illicit affair between the King and the Bastard’s mother while his father was away in Germany. His very own mother admits this and King John and Elinor acknowledge the physical resemblance of the bastard to King Richard. The Bastard is welcomed into the royal court as family and proclaimed Sir Richard. He is also thrilled: “Ay, my mother, with all my heart I thank thee for my father.” This is a play about legitimacy, one of Shakespeare’s regular themes throughout his plays about kingship. Many a monarch falls due to either a question of his hereditary inheritance rights or because of his sheer incompetency. King John fails both tests. When his brother, King Richard (the Lionheart) died, by all accounts the throne should have gone to either his elder brother, Geffrey or Geffrey’s eldest son, Arthur. But Arthur was merely a young boy and John took advantage and seized the crown. His mother, Elinor, supports his weak claim, but the powerful lords of England and the other heads of Europe, including the Pope, do not. And again, it does not help his cause that he also happens to be a terrible king. The bastard son of King Richard the Lionheart chooses to abandon his claims as a landed heir of Faulconbridge and to proceed as the bastard son of the former king, which brings him into the court of King John, where he will do extraordinarily well. It should be mentioned that the Bastard is Shakespeare’s fictional creation and not a historical character. That being said, he will transcend his role as a court agitator to become a most responsible, heroic character and easily the most interesting of the play, often regarded as Shakespeare’s most well rounded creation to date.

Act II (1 scene)

Scene i

France, before Algiers.

Enter Austrian forces, King Philip of France, Lewis (the Dauphin), Constance and Arthur.

King Philip: “Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, Richard, that robbed the lion of his heart and fought the holy wars in Palestine, came early to his grave; and for amends to his posterity, boy, in thy behalf, rebuke the usurpation of thy unnatural uncle, English John.”

Arthur: “I give you welcome with a powerless hand, but with a heart full of unstained love.”

King Philip: “A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?”

Austria: “Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss as seal to my love, that to my home I will no more return till the right thou has in France, together with that white-faced shore, even till that England salute thee for her king. Till then, fair boy, will I not think of home, but follow arms.”

Constance: “O, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s thanks, till your strong hand shall help to give him strength.”

Austria: “The peace of heaven is theirs who lift their swords in such a just and charitable war.”

King Philip: “Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent against the brows of this resisting town. But we will make it subject to this boy.”

Enter Chatillon

King Philip: “Our messenger, Chatillon, has arrived. What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; Chatillon, speak.”

Chatillon: “Then turn your forces from this paltry siege and stir them up against a mightier task. England, impatient of your just demands, has put himself in arms. The adverse winds have given him time to land his legions all; his marches are expedient to this town, his forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along has come the mother-queen; with them a bastard of the king’s deceased. In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits did never float upon the swelling tide to do offence and scathe in Christendom. They are at hand, to parley or fight, therefore prepare.”

Austria: “Courage mounts with occasion. Let them be welcome then; we are prepared.”

Enter King John, Elinor, Blanche and the Bastard

King John: “Peace be to France, if France in peace permit our just and lineal entrance to our own! If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, while we, God’s wrathful agent, do correct their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven.”

King Philip: “Peace be to England, if that war return from France to England, there to live in peace! England we love, but thou from loving England art so far that thou has under-wrought his lawful king, and done a rape upon the maiden virtue of the crown. Look here upon they brother-in-law’s Geffrey’s face: these eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his; this little abstract does contain that large which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, and this his son; England was Geffrey’s right, and this is Geffrey’s. In the name of God, how comes it that thou are called a king, when living blood does in these temples beat which owe the crown to that thou over-masters?”

King John: “From whom has thou this great commission, France?”

King Philip: “From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts in any breast of strong authority to look into the blots and stains of right. That judge has made me guardian to this boy, under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, and by whose help I mean to chastise it.”

King John: “Alack, thou does usurp authority.”

Elinor: “Who is it thou does call usurper, France?”

Constance: “Let me make answer; thy usurping son.”

Elinore: “Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king, that thou may be a queen and check the world!”

Constance: “My bed was ever to thy son as true as thine was to your husband; and this boy liker in feature to his father Geffrey than thou and John in manners. My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think his father never was so true begot. There’s a good grandam, boy, who would blot thee.”

Austria: “What the devil art thou?”

Bastard: “One who will play the devil, sir, with you and I may catch your hide and you alone. I’ll smoke your skin-coat, sirrah, look to it; faith I will.”

Austria: “What cracker is this same who deals our ears with this abundance of superfluous breath?”

King Philip: “Women and fools, break off your conference. King John, this is the very sum of all: England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine in right of Arthur, do I claim of thee; will thou resign them and lay down thy arms?”

King John: “My life as soon. I do defy thee, France. Arthur of Britain, yield thee to my hand, and out of my dear love I’ll give thee more than ever the coward hand of France can win. Submit thee, boy.”

Elinor: “Come to thy grandam, child.”

Constance: “Do, child, give grandam kingdom and grandam will give a plum, a cherry and a fig.”

Arthur: “Good my mother, peace! I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that’s made for thee.”

Elinor: “His mother shames him, so poor boy, he weeps.”

Constance: “His grandam’s wrongs, and not his mother’s shame, draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes.”

Elinor: “Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!”

Constance: “Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth. Call me not slanderer! Thou and thine usurp the dominations and rights of this oppressed boy, this is thy eldest son’s son, unfortunate in nothing but in thee. Thy sins are visited in this poor child; the canon of the law is laid on him, being but the second generation removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.”

King John: “Bedlam, have done.”

Constance: “I have but this to say: her sin is his injury; a plague upon her!”

Elinor: “Thou unadvised scold, I can produce a will that bars the title of thy son.”

Constance: “Ay, who doubts that? A will, a wicked will; a woman’s will; a cankered grandam’s will.”

King Philip: “Peace, lady! Pause or be more temperate. Summon hither to the walls these men of Angiers; let us hear them speak whose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.

Trumpet sounds. Enter citizens upon the walls.

Citizens: “Who is it that has warned us to the walls?”

King Philip: “Tis France, for England.”

King John: “England for itself. Hear us first. These flags of France. Their cannons have their bowels full of wrath, and ready mounted are they to spit forth their iron’s indignation against your walls, and wide havoc made for bloody power to rush upon your peace. But on the sight of us your lawful king, instead of bullets wrapped in fire, to make a shaking fever in your walls, they shoot but calm words folded up in smoke to make a faithless error in your ears. Kind citizens, let us in – your king craves harbourage within your city walls.”

King Philip: “When I have said, make answer to us both. Lo, in this right hand, whose protection is most divinely vowed upon the right of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, son to the elder brother of this man. Be pleased then to pay that duty which you truly owe to him who owes it, namely, this young prince; and then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, we will bare home that lusty blood again which here we came to spout against your town, and leave your children, wives, and you, in peace. But if you fondly pass our proffered offer, tis not the rounder of your old-faced walls can hide you from our messengers of war, though all these English were harboured in their rude circumference. Then tell us, shall your city call us lord or shall we give the sign to our rage, and stalk in blood to our possession?”

Citizens: “In brief: we are the King of England’s subjects; for him, and in his right, we hold this town.”

King John: “Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.”

Citizens: “That can we not; but he that proves he King, to him we will prove loyal. Till that time we have rammed up our gates against the world.”

King John: “Does not the crown of England prove the king? And if not that, I bring you witnesses: twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s breed, to verify our title with their lives.”

Citizens: “Till you compound whose right is worthiest, we for the worthiest hold the right from both.”

French Herald: “You men of Angiers, open wide your gates and let young Arthur in, who by the hand of France this day has made much work for tears in many an English mother, whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; many a widow’s husband grovelling lies, coldly embracing the discoloured earth; and victory with little loss does play upon the dancing banners of the French, who are at hand to enter conquerers, and to proclaim Arthur England’s king and yours.”

English Herald: “Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: King John, your king and England’s, does approach, commander of this hot malicious day. Their armours hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood. And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come our lusty English, with purpled hands, dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes. Open your gates and give the victors way.”

Citizens: “Heralds, from off our towers we behold both your armies. Blood has brought blood, and blows have answered blows, but are alike, and both alike we like. One must prove greatest. While thy weigh so even, we hold our town for neither, yet for both.”

Enter the two Kings

King John: “Has thou yet more blood to cast away?”

King Philip: “England, thou has not saved one drop of blood in this hot trial more than we of France; rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, before we will lay down our just-bourne arms, we’ll put thee down.”

Bastard: “Ha, majesty! Cry ‘havoc’ kings; back to the stained field, you equal potents, fiery kindled spirits! Then let confusion of one part confirm the other’s peace. Till then, blows, blood and death!”

King John: “Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?”

King Philip: “Speak, citizens, for England; who’s you’re king?”

Citizens: “The King of England, when we know the King. A greater power than we denies all this; and till it be undoubted, we do lock our former scruples in our strong-barred gates; until our fears, resolved, be by some certain king purged and deposed.”

Bastard: “By heaven, Angiers flout you, kings, and stand securely on your battlements as in a theatre, whence they gape and point at your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences be ruled by me: do like the rebels of Jerusalem, be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend your sharpest deeds of malice on this town. Let France and England mount their battering cannon till their soul-fearing clamours have brawled down the flinty ribs of this contemptuous city. That done, part your mingling colours once again, turn face to face and bloody point to point; then in a moment of fortune shall cull forth out of one side her happy minion, to whom in favour she shall give the day. How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?”

King John: “I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers and lay this Angiers even with the ground; then after fight who shall be king of it?”

Bastard: “If thou has the mettle of a king, being wronged as we are by this peevish town, turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, as we will ours, against these saucy walls; and when that we have dashed them to the ground, why then defy each other, and pell-mell make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.”

King Philip: “Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?”

King John: “We from the west will send destruction into this city’s bosom.”

Austria: “I from the north.”

King Philip; “Our thunder from the south shall rain.”

Bastard: (aside) “O prudent discipline! From north to south Austria and France shoot into each other’s mouth.”

Citizens: “Hear us, great kings; vouchsafe awhile to stay, and I shall show you peace; win you this city without stroke or wound. Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.”

King John: “Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear.”

Citizens: “That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, is niece to England; look upon the years of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid. If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love ambitious sought a match at birth, whose veins bound richer blood than Blanch? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, is the long Dauphin every way complete. He is the half part of a blessed man, left to be finished by such as she; and she a fair divided excellence, whose fulness of perfection lies in him. Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, to these two princes, if you marry them. At this match the mouth of passage shall we fling wide open and give you entrance.”

Bastard: “Here’s a stay that shakes the rotten carcass of old death out of his rags! Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words.”

Elinor: “Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; for by this knot thou shall so surely tie thy now unsured assurance to the crown.”

Citizens: “Why answer not the double majesties?”

King Philip: “Speak England first. What say you?”

King John: “If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, can in this book of beauty read ‘I love’, her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; for Anjou, and fair Tourains, Maine, Poictiers, and all that we upon this side the sea, except this city now by us besieged, shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich in titles, honours and promotions, as she in beauty, education, blood holds hand with any princess of the world.”

King Philip: “What says thou, boy? Look in the lady’s face.”

Lewis: “I do, my lord, and in her eye I find a wonder, or a wondrous miracle. I do protest I never loved myself till now infixed I beheld myself drawn in the flattering table of her eye.”

Bastard: (aside) “He does espy himself love’s traitor. This is pity now, that there should be in such a love so vile a lout as he.”

Blanch: “My uncle’s will in this respect is mine. Anything he sees which moves his liking I can with ease translate it to my will; or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it easily to my love. Further, I will not flatter you, my lord, that all I see in you is worthy love. Nothing do I see in you that I can find should merit any hate.”

King John: “Speak then, Prince Dauphin: can you love this lady?”

Lewis: “Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; for I do love her most unfeignedly.”

King John: “Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, with her to thee; and this addition more, full thirty thousand marks of English coin. Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, command thy son and daughter to join hands.”

King Philip: “It likes us well; young princes, close your hands.”

Austria: “And your lips too.”

King Philip: “Now, citizens of Angiers, open your gates, let in that amity which you have made; for at St Mary’s Chapel presently the rights of marriage shall be solemnized. Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows?

Lewis: “She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent.”

King Philip: “And by my faith, this league that we have made will give her sadness very little cure. Brother of England, how may we content this widow lady? In her right we came; which we, God knows, have turned another way, to our own vantage.”

King John: “We will heal up all. For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Britain and Earl of Richmond. Call the Lady Constance; I trust we shall in some measure satisfy her.”

Exit all but the Bastard

Bastard: “Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition! John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole, has willingly departed with a part; and France, whom zeal and charity brought to the field rounded in the ear with that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, that broker that still breaks the pate of faith, that daily vow-breaker, he that wins of all, of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, that smooth faced gentleman: tickling commodity. Commodity, the bias of the world. This advantage, this commodity, this bawd, this broker, clapped on the outward eye of fickle France, has drawn him from his own determined aid, from a resolved and honourable war, to a most base and vile-concluded peace. And why rail I on this commodity? But for because he has not woo’d me yet; not that I have the power to clutch my hand, but for my hand, as unattempted yet, like a poor beggar rails on the rich. Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail and say there is no sin but to be rich; and being rich, my virtue then will be to say there is no vice but beggary. Since kings break faith upon commodity, gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.”

Summary and Analysis

King Philip of France tries to convince Arthur that as his father, Geffrey is the elder brother of King John, he should ‘rebuke the usurpation of his unnatural uncle, English King John’. The King of Austria vows that his army will remain in the field until Arthur becomes King of England. Arthur’s mother, Constance, is grateful for France and Austria’s support. King Philip learns that King John has outright rejected this suggestion and has accompanied an army to France to defend possession of his crown. He is joined by his mother, Elinor, and his newly determined Bastard nephew. Before the town of Angiers King John and King Philip argue over who has the right to the English crown. Elinor and Constance, the mothers of the two claimants, exchange bitter hostilities, as well. Both sides claim possession of Angiers, but the citizens who arm the walls of the city will admit neither side until one prevails over the other. The armies engage in a battle that is inconclusive. The Bastard next proposes that the English and French forces unite to destroy Angiers before then resuming their contest against one another. Both sides agree but then the citizens of Angiers have yet another proposal, that the niece of King John, Blanch, marry the son of King Philip, the Dauphin, Lewis, and unite the two kingdoms in peace. This is agreed upon and King John awards the couple with much of his French possessions. Constance is devastated that her son, Arthur, will not be made King of England and John offers to make him Duke of Britaine and Earl of Richmond. The Bastard ends the scene ranting about the madness of kings and commodity, the buying and selling of everything, and how that has altered the policy of both England and France so dramatically. He becomes determined to use commodity to his own advantage in order to gain the power and prestige he envisions for himself. So in order to ensure he retain the English throne, King John has married Blanch to the French Dauphin and given away most of his French possessions. King Philip, on the other hand, relinquishes France’s demand to have Arthur placed on the English throne, in order to maintain peace with England by marrying his son, the Dauphin, to King John’s niece, Blanch. It is not what either nation originally planned or wanted but it is the compromise agreed upon and everyone goes home in peace. In this scene we see the Bastard holding a position of great prominence along side King John. His ascent has begun in earnest. Arthur’s mother is the person most distressed by these new arrangements, as her son’s claim to the English throne has been thwarted by the marriage uniting the two kingdoms. Arthur himself seems to harbour no such cravings for power and will very sweetly return the court of King John back in England, where he can be closely monitored as a potential and threatening claimant to the English throne.

Act III (4 scenes)

Scene i

France. The French King’s camp

Enter Constance, Arthur and Salsbury

Constance: “Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace! False blood to false blood joined! Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? It is not so; thou has misspoken, misheard; be well advised; tell over thy tale again. It cannot be; thou does but say ’tis so; I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word is but the vain breath of a common man: believe me I do not believe thee, man; I have a KIng’s oath to the contrary. Thou shall be punished for thus frightening me, for I am sick and capable of fears, oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; a widow, husbandless, subject to fears; a woman, naturally born to fears. What does thou mean by the shaking of thy head? Why does thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye with that lamentable rheum, like a proud river peering over his bounds? Be these sad signs, confirmers of thy words? Then speak again, whether thy tale be true.”

Salsbury: “As true as I believe you think them false.”

Constance: “O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, teach thou this sorrow how to make me die. Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England; what becomes of me? Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight; this news has made thee a most ugly man.”

Salibury: “What other harm have I, good lady, done but spoke the harms that is by others done?”

Constance: “Which harm within itself so heinous is as it makes harmful all that speak of it.”

Arthur: “I do beseech you, madam, be content.”

Constance: “If thou who bid me be content were grim, ugly and slanderous to thy mother’s womb, full of unpleasing blots, lame, foolish, crooked, swart, patched with foul moles and eye offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content; for then I should not love thee; no, nor thou deserve a crown. But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, nature and fortune joined to make thee great: but fortune, O! She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee; she adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, and with her golden hand has plucked France to tread down fair respect of sovereignty, and made his Majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to fortune and King John – that strumpet fortune, that usurping John! Envenom him with words and leave those woes alone which I alone am bound to under-bear. I will instruct my sorrows to be proud. To me, and to the state of my great grief, let kings assemble; for my grief is so great that no supporter but the huge firm earth can hold it up. (she sits on the ground) Here I and sorrow sit; here is my throne, bid kings come and bow to it.”

Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor, the Bastard and Austria

King Philip: “Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed day ever in France shall be kept festive.”

Constance: (rising) “A wicked day, and not a holy day! What has this day deserved? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, this day of shame, oppression, perjury; let wives with child pray that their burdens may not fall this day, lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossed; but on this day let seamen fear no wreck; no bargains break that are not this day made; this day, all things begun come to ill end.”

King Philip: “By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause to curse the fair proceedings of this day. Have I not pawned to you my majesty?”

Constance: “You have beguiled me with a counterfeit resembling majesty, which proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn; you came in arms to spill my enemies’ blood, but now in arms you strengthen it with yours. Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings! A widow cries: be husband to me, heavens! Set armed discord between these perjured kings! Hear me, O, hear me!”

Austria: “Lady Constance, peace!”

Constance: “War! War! No peace! Peace is to me a war. O Austria! Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou are perjured too. What a fool art thou. Has thou not spoke like thunder on my side, been sworn my soldier, and does thou now fall over to my foes?”

Austria: “O that a man should speak those words to me!”

Enter Pandulph

King Philip: “Here comes the holy legate of the Pope.”

Pandulph: “Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! To thee, King John, my holy errand is. Pandulph, from Pope Innocent, does in his name demand why thou against the church, our holy mother, so willfully does spurn; and force perforce keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop of Canterbury, from that Holy See? I do demand of thee.”

King John: “Thou cannot, Cardinal, devise a name so slight, unworthy and ridiculous, to charge me to an answer. Tell the Pope that no Italian priest shall tithe or toll in our dominions; but as we under heaven are supreme head, where we do reign we will alone uphold, without the assistance of a mortal hand. So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart to him and his usurped authority.”

King Philip: “Brother of England, you blaspheme.”

King John: “Though you and all the kings of Christiandom are led so grossly by this meddling priest, and by the merit of vile gold, yet I alone do me oppose the Pope, and count his friends my foes.”

Pandulph: “Then by the lawful power that I have thou shall stand cursed and excommunicated; and blessed shall he be that does revolt from his allegiance to a heretic; and meritorious shall that hand be called, canonized, and worshipped as a saint, who takes away by any secret course thy hateful life.”

Constance: “O, lawful let it be that I have room with Rome to curse a while! Good father Cardinal, cry thou ‘amen’ to my keen curses.”

Pandulph: “There’s law and warrant, lady, for my curse.”

Constance: “And for mine too; when law can do no right, let it be lawful that law bar no wrong; law cannot give my child his kingdom here, for he who holds his kingdom holds the law; therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, how can the law forbid my tongue to curse?”

Pandulph: “Philip of France, on peril of a curse, let go the hand of that arch-heretic, and raise the power of France upon his head, unless he does submit himself to Rome.”

Elinor: “Look thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand.”

Austria: “King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.”

King John: “Philip, what says thou to the Cardinal?”

Lewis: “Bethink you, father, for the difference is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome or the light loss of England for a friend. Forgo the easier.”

Blanch: “That’s the curse of Rome.”

Constance: “O Lewis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here in likeness of a new untrimmed bride.”

Blanch: “The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith but from her need.”

Constance: “O, if thou grant my need, which only lives but by the death of faith, that need must needs infer this principle – that faith would live again by death of need. O then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up: keep my need up, and faith is trodden down!”

King Philip: “I am perplexed and know not what to say.”

Pandulph: “What can thou say but will perplex thee more, if thou stand excommunicated and cursed?”

King Philip: “Good reverend father, this royal hand and mine are newly knit, coupled and linked together with all religious strength of sacred vows; the latest breath that gave the sound of words was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, between our kingdoms and our royal selves; and even before this truce our hands were besmeared and overstained with slaughtered pencil, where revenge did paint the fearful difference of incensed kings. And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood, so newly joined in love, unyoke this seizure, make such inconstant children of ourselves, unswear faith sworn, and make a riot on the gentle brow of true sincerity? O, holy sir, my reverend father, let it not be so! Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose some gentle order; and then we shall be blessed to do your pleasure, and continue friends.”

Pandulph: “All form is formless, order orderless, save what is opposite to England’s love. Therefore, to arms! Be champion of our church or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse – a mother’s curse – on her revolting son. France, thou may hold a serpent by the tongue, a chafed lion by the mortal paw, a fasting tIger safer by the tooth, than keep in peace that hand which thou does hold. O, let thy vow first made to heaven, first be to heaven performed, that is, to be the champion of our church. What since thou swore is sworn against thyself and may not be performed by thyself, for that which thou has sworn to do amiss is not amiss when it is truly done; and being not done, where doing tends to ill, the truth is then most done not doing it; the better act of purposes mistook is to mistake again; though indirect, yet indirection thereby grows direct, and falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cures fire within the scorched veins of one newly burned. It is religion that does make vows kept; but thou has sworn against religion by what thou swears against the thing thou swears, and makes an oath the surety of thy truth against an oath; the truth thou are unsure to swear swears only not to be forsworn; else what a mockery should it be to swear! But thou does swear only to be forsworn; and most forsworn to keep what thou does swear. Therefore thy later vows against thy first is in thyself rebellion to thyself; and better conquest never can thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against these giddy loose suggestions. But if not, then know the peril of our curses light on thee so heavy as thou shall not shake them off, but in despair die under their black weight.

Lewis: “Father, to arms!”

Blanch: “Upon thy wedding day? Against the blood that thou has married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? Shall clamours of hell be measures to our pomp? O husband, gear me! Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms against my uncle.”

Constance: “O, upon my knee, made heard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom forethought by heaven!”

Blanch: “Now shall I see thou love. What motive may be stronger with thee than the name of wife?”

Constance: “That which upholds him that thee upholds, his honour. O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour!”

Pandulph: “I will denounce a curse upon his head.”

King Philip: “Thou shall not need. England, I shall fall from thee.”

Constance: “O fair return of banished majesty!”

Elinor: “O, foul revolt of French inconstancy!”

King John: “France, thou shall rue this hour within this hour.”

Blanch: “The sun is overcast with blood. Fair day, adieu! Which is the side that I must go withal? I am with both; each army has a hand; and in their rage, I having hold of both, they whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou may win; Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may lose; father, I may not wish the fortune thine; grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive. Whoever wins, on the side I shall lose.”

Lewis: “Lady, with me thy fortune lies.”

Blanch: “There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.”

King John: “France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath, a rage whose heat has this condition that nothing can allay, nothing but blood, the blood, and dearest-valued blood, of France.”

King Philip: “Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shall turn to ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire. Look to thyself, thou are in jeopardy.”

Summary and Analysis

England and France, having made their peace with one another, by virtue of the marriage between King John’s niece, Blanch, and King Philip’s son, Lewis, leaves Constance, Arthur’s mother, in a rage. King Philip of France had sworn to defeat King John and place Arthur on the English throne, but now he has joined forces with King John and it would appear there will be no throne for Arthur. So Constance waxes poetic in her wrath until the Cardinal arrives also enraged by the peace between England and France, as King John has railed against the Pope over the expectation that the church could appoint the Archbishop of Canterbury over King John’s objection. The Cardinal pronounces King John’s excommunication from the church, providing Constance with hope, and pressures King Philip to break his peace with King John. Philip resists but eventually succumbs to church threats and breaks off his relationship with England, leaving Blanch to wonder which side she could possible support, with her uncle, King John, on one side and her husband, Lewis, on the other. The scene ends with King John once again swearing vengeance on France. So the church has destroyed the peace created by the marriage of Blanch and Lewis. Shakespeare’s audiences would have empathized with King John being so manipulated by the Catholic Church, as Elizabeth herself sought throughout her reign to control the impact of the church on the Protestant kingdom created by her father, King Henry VIII. This scene contains some of Shakespeare’s finest writing, in the ragings of both Constance and Pandulph.

Act III

Scene ii

France, near Angiers.

Enter the Bastard with Austria’s head.

Bastard: “Austria’s head lies here, while Philip breathes.”

Enter King John, Arthur and Hubert

King John: “Hubert, keep this boy. My mother is assailed in our tent, and taken, I fear.”

Bastard: “My lord, I rescued her; her Highness is in safety, fear you not.”

Summary and Analysis

The battle has commenced between England and France / Austria. The Bastard arrives with Austria’s head and when King John fears that Elinor has been captured it is the Bastard once again who assures him that she is safe, as he has rescued her. John’s fortunes seem to be plummeting, as he is at war with not only France and Austria, but also with the Catholic Church in Rome and his own nobles and lords at home. At the same time, the Bastard is rising in prominence, playing a leading role in the decision making process of the court, bravely conducting himself in the war in Europe and saving the Queen Mother from capture.

Act III

Scene iii

France, near Angiers

Enter King John, Elinor, Arthur, the Bastard and Hubert

King John: (to Elinor) “So shall it be; your Grace shall stay behind, so strongly guarded. (to Arthur) Cousin, look not sad; thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will as dear be to thee as thy father was.”

Arthur: “O, this will make my mother die with grief.”

King John: (to the Bastard) “Cousin, away for England! Haste before, and, ere our coming, see thou shakes the bags of hoarding abbots. The fat ribs of peace must by the hungry now be fed upon. Use our commission in his utmost force.”

Bastard: “Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, when gold and silver beckons me to come on. I leave your Highness. So, I kiss your hand.”

Elinor: “Farewell, gentle cousin.”

King John: “Coz, farewell.”

Exit the Bastard

King John: “Come hither, Hubert. O, my gentle Hubert, we owe thee much! Thy voluntary oath lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. I had a thing to say, but I will fit it with some better time. By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed to say what good respect I have of thee.”

Hubert: “I am much bound to your Majesty.”

King John: “I had a thing to say – but let it go. If that thou could see me without eyes, hear me without thy ears, and make reply without a tongue, without eyes, ears, and harmful sounds of words, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. But, ah, I will not! Yet I love thee well; and by my troth, I think thou loves me well.”

Hubert: “So well that what you bid me undertake, though that my death were adjunct to my act, by heaven, I would do it.”

King John: “Good Hubert, throw thine eyes on yonder young boy. I’ll tell thee what, my friend, he is a very serpent in my way; and wheresoever this foot of mine does tread, he lies before me. Does thou understand me? Thou art his keeper.”

Hubert: “And I’ll keep him so that he shall not offend your Majesty.”

King John: “Death.”

Hubert: “He shall not live.”

King John: “I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee. Well, I will not say what I intend for thee. (to Arthur) For England, cousin, go; Hubert shall be your man, attend on you with all true duty. On toward Calais, ho!”

Summary and Analysis

The English have triumphed on the battlefield of France and King John assures Arthur that he will love him as a father and instructs the Bastard to raid the monasteries for money for the common people to feed on. Then John coyly informs loyal Hubert that there is something he wishes to tell him regarding Arthur. He says that Arthur is a serpent in the King’s way and eventually says that he wants him dead. Arthur has a very popular claim to the throne and King John wants to rid himself of this threat. Hubert assures King John that Arthur will not live and John comforts Arthur that Hubert will attend to to him with ‘true duty’. The King is willing to further alienate the Catholic Church and then seals his own fate with plans to have the beloved Arthur murdered.

Act III

Scene iv

France, in the French King’s camp.

Enter King Philip, Lewis and Pandolph

King Philip: “So a whole Armada of convicted sail is scattered and disjoined from fellowship.”

Pandulph: “Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well.”

King Philip: “What can go well, when we have run so ill? Are we not beaten? Arthur taken prisoner? Bloody England into England gone? Look who comes here: a grave unto a soul; holding the eternal spirit, against her will, in the vile prison of afflicted breath. I prithee, lady, go away with me. Comfort, gentle Constance!”

Constance: “No, I defy all counsel, all redress, but death, death; O amiable, lovely death! Thou odoriferous stench! Sound rottenness! I will kiss thy detestable bones, and put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, and ring these fingers with thy household worms, and stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, and be a carrion monster like thyself. Misery’s love, O, come to me!”

King Philip: “O fair affliction, peace!”

Constance: “No, no, O that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world.”

Pandulph: “Lady, you utter madness, not sorrow.”

Constance: “I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; my name is Constance; I was Geffrey’s wife; young Arthur is my son, and he is lost. I am not mad – I would to heaven I were! For then tis like I should forget myself. Or, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, and thou shall be canonized, Cardinal; for, being not mad, but sensible of grief, my reasonable part produces reason how I may be delivered of these woes, and teaches me to kill or hang myself. If I were mad I should forget my son. I am not mad; too well, too well I feel the different plague of each calamity.”

King Philip: “Bind up those tresses.”

Constance: “To England, if you will.”

King Philip: “Bind up your hairs.”

Constance: “Yes, that I will. I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud ‘O that these hands could so redeem my son, as they have given these hairs their liberty!’ But now I envy their liberty, because my poor child is a prisoner. For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, there was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, and he will look as hollow as a ghost; and so he’ll die; and, rising so again, when I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him. Therefore never, never must I behold my pretty Arthur more.”

Pandulph: “You hold too heinous a respect of grief.”

Constance: “He talks to me who never had a son.”

King Philip: “You are as fond of grief as of your child.”

Constance: “Grief fills the room up of my absent child, lies in his bed, walks up and down with me. Then have I reason to be fond of grief. Fair you well; had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, (tearing more hair out) when there is such disorder in my wit. O lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrow’s cure.”

Exit Constance

King Philip: “I fear some outrage, and I’ll follow her.”

Exit King Philip

Lewis: “There’s nothing in this world can make me joy. Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; and bitter shame has spoiled the sweet world’s taste, that it yields nought but shame and bitterness.”

Pandulph: “What have you lost by losing of this day?”

Lewis: “All days of glory, joy and happiness.”

Pandulph: “If you had won it. No, no; when fortune means to men most good, she looks upon them with a threatening eye. Tis strange to think how much King John has lost in this which he accounts so clearly won. Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?”

Lewis: “As heartily as he is glad he has him.”

Pandulph: “Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; for even the breath of what I mean to speak shall blow each dust out of the path which shall directly lead thy foot to England’s throne. And therefore mark: John has seized Arthur; and it cannot be that the misplaced John should entertain an hour, one minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. That John may stand then, Arthur needs must fall; so be it, for it cannot be but so.”

Lewis: “But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s fall?”

Pandulph: “You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, may then make all the claim that Arthur did. John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; this act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts of all his peoples and freeze up their zeal, plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.”

Lewis: “Maybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life, but hold himself safe in his prisonment.”

Pandulph: “O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, if that young Arthur be not gone already, even at that news he dies; and then the hearts of all his people shall revolt from him.

Summary and Analysis

The French ships are scattered at sea but Pandulph, the Pope’s representative, comforts King Philip that all is well. Constance arrives totally distraught, claiming to be ready for death due to the capture of her son by King John. She rightly believes he will die in the hands of King John. Neither Pandulph or King Philip can comfort her in the least. Lewis, the Dauphin, is also saddened by the capture of Arthur, until Pandolph suggests that, with Arthur doomed, all of his claims for the English throne become Lewis’ right, as he has married King John’s niece. Pandulph also rightly insists that once Arthur is killed by John, the people of England will turn on their king with a vengeance. Lewis is heartened and makes plans to go directly to England. Pandulph prophetically reads the future regarding Arthur and John’s fate, assessments that escape King John’s consideration entirely.

Act IV (3 scenes)

Scene i

England, a castle

Enter Hubert and executioners.

Hubert: “Heat me these irons hot. When I strike my foot upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth and bind the boy which you shall find with me fast to the chair.”

1 Executioner: “I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.”

Hubert: “Fear not you. Look to it.”

Exit the executioners

Hubert: “Young lad, come forth.”

Enter Arthur

Arthur: “Good morrow, Hubert.”

Hubert: “Good morrow, little Prince.”

Arthur: “You are sad.”

Hubert: “Indeed, I have been merrier.”

Arthur: “Mercy on me! Methinks no body should be sad but I. By my christiandom, so I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long; and so I would be here but that I doubt my uncle; he is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey’s son? No, indeed, is it not; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.”

Hubert: (aside) “If I talk to him, with his innocent prate he will wake my mercy, which lies dead; therefore I will be sudden and dispatch.”

Arthur: “Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today; In sooth, I would you were a little sick, that I might sit all night and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me.”

Hubert: (aside) “His words do take possession of my bosom.” “Read here, young Arthur.” (shows him a paper) (aside) “How now, foolish rheum! I must be brief, lest resolution drop out of my eyes in tender womanish tears.” “Can you not read it?”

Arthur: “Hubert, must you with hot irons burn out both my eyes?”

Hubert: “Young boy, I must.”

Arthur: “And will you?”

Hubert: “And I will.”

Arthur: “Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, and with my hand at midnight I held your head; still and anon cheered up the heavy time, saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief?’ or ‘What good love may I perform for you?’ If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, why, then you must. Will you put out my eyes, these eyes that never did or never shall so much as frown on you?”

Hubert: “I have sworn to do it; and with hot irons must I burn them out.”

Arthur: “If an angel should have come to me and told me Hubert should put out my eyes, I would not have believed him.”

Hubert: “Come forth. Do as I bid you to.”

Re-enter executioners

Arthur: “O, save me, Hubert, save me!”

Hubert: “Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.”

Arthur: “I will not struggle. For heaven’s sake, Hubert, drive these men away, and I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. Thrust but these men away, and I’ll forgive you, whatever torment you do put me to.”

Hubert: “Go; let me alone with him.”

1 Executioner: “I am best pleased to be from such a deed.”

Exit executioners

Arthur: “Alas, he has a stern look but a gentle heart. Let him come back, that his compassion may give life to yours.”

Hubert: “Come boy, prepare yourself.”

Arthur: “Is there no remedy?”

Hubert: “None, but to lose your eyes.”

Arthur: “Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, so I may keep my eyes. O, spare my eyes.”

Hubert: “Well, see to live. I will not touch thy eye for all the treasure that thy uncle owes. Yet I am sworn with this same very iron to burn them out.”

Arthur: “O, now you look like Hubert! All this while you were disguised.”

Hubert: “Peace; no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead: I’ll fill these dogged spies with false reports; and, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure that Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, will not offend thee.”

Arthur: “O heaven! I thank you, Hubert.”

Hubert: “Much danger do I undergo for thee.”

Summary and Analysis

Hubert is initially following King John’s order that he blind and murder young Arthur. His executioners stand by as he speaks with Arthur, who wishes he were merely a simple shepherd. Hubert is extremely fond of Arthur, so this assignment is very hard on him. He shows Arthur the note from King John that he must put out the young man’s eyes. Arthur appeals to Hubert to consider how close they have become, but at first Hubert insists he must do what he is sworn by. Finally, his heart softens and he sends away the executioners, freeing Arthur from his fate. Arthur is extremely grateful but Hubert reminds him ‘much danger do I undergo for thee.’ Arthur is a very sweet and innocent young man and Hubert cannot bring himself to rid King John of Arthur. Arthur stands in vivid contrast to King John, who is wickedly ordering the death of this young prince beloved throughout the kingdom.

Act IV

Scene ii

England. King John’s palace.

Enter King John, Pembroke and Salisbury.

King John: “Here once again we sit, once again crowned and looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.”

Pembroke: “This once again, but that your Highness pleased, was once superfluous: you were crowned before.”

Salisbury: “Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, to guard a title that was rich before is wasteful and ridiculous excess.”

Pembroke: “But that your royal pleasure must be done, this act is troublesome.”

Salisbury: “In this the antique and well-noted face of plain old form is much disfigured; startles and frights consideration, makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, for putting on so new a fashioned robe.”

King John: “Some reasons for this double coronation I have possessed you with, and think them strong; meantime but ask what you would have reformed that is not well, and well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant your requests.”

Pembroke: “Then I, both for myself and your safety, heartily request the enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint does move the murmuring lips of discontent to break into this dangerous argument.”

King John: “Let it be so. I do commit his youth to your direction.”

Enter Hubert

Pembroke: “This is the man should do the bloody deed; the image of a wicked heinous fault lives in his eyes and I do fearfully believe tis done what we so feared he had a charge to do.”

King John: “Good lords, although my will to give is living, the suit which you demand is gone and dead: he tells us Arthur is deceased tonight.”

Salisbury: “Indeed, we feared his sickness was past cure.”

Pembroke: “Indeed, we heard how near his death he was.”

King John: “Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life?”

Salisbury: “It is apparent foul-play; and tis shame that greatness should so grossly offer it; and so, farewell.”

Exit the lords

King John: “They burn in indignation. I repent. There is no sure foundation set on blood, no certain life achieved by other’s death.”

Enter a messenger

King John: “A fearful eye thou has; where is that blood that I have seen inhabit those cheeks? How goes all in France?”

Messenger: “From France to England. Never such a power for any foreign preparation was levied in the body of a land. They are all arrived.”

King John: “O, where has our intelligence slept? Where is my mother’s care?”

Messenger: “My liege, her ear is stopped with dust: the first of April died your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord, the Lady Constance in a frenzy died.”

King John: “Withhold thy speech, dreadful occasion! What! Mother dead! Under whose conduct came those powers of France?”

Messenger: “Under the Dauphin.”

Enter the Bastard

King John: “No, what says the world to your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff my head with more ill news, for it is full.”

Bastard: “But if you be afeared to hear the worst, then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.”

King John: “Bear with me, cousin. Speak.”

Bastard: “How I have sped among the clergymen, the sums I have collected shall express. But as I travelled hither through the land, I find the people possessed with rumours, full of idle dreams, not knowing what they fear, but full of fear; and here’s a prophet I brought with me from forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found with many hundreds treading on his heels, to whom he sung that, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, your Highness should deliver up your crown.”

King John: “Thou idle dreamer. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; and on that day at noon whereon he says I shall yield up my crown let him be hanged. O my gentle cousin, hear thou the news abroad, who are arrived?”

Bastard: “The French, my lord. Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, with eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, and others more, going to seek the grave of Arthur, whom they say is killed tonight on your suggestion.”

King John: “Gentle kinsman, go and thrust thyself into their companies. I have a way to win their loves again; bring them before me.”

Bastard: “I will seek them out.”

King John: “Make haste. O let me have no subject enemies when adverse foreigners affright my towns with dreadful stout invasion! My mother dead!”

Re-enter Hubert

Hubert: “My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight.”

King John: “Five moons!”

Hubert: “Old men and bedlam in the streets do prophesy upon it dangerously; young Arthur’s death is common in their mouths; and when they talk of him, they shake their hearts, and whisper to one another.”

King John: “Why seek thou to possess me of these fears? Why urged thou so often young Arthur’s death? Thy hand has murdered him. I had a mighty cause to wish him dead, but thou had none to kill him.”

Hubert: “My lord! Why, did you not provoke me? Here is your hand and seal for what I did.”

King John: “How often the sight of means to do ill deeds make deeds ill done! Had not thou been by, this murder had nor come into my mind; but finding thee fit for bloody villainy, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur’s death. Without stop, did thou let thy heart consent, and consequently thy rude hand to act the deed which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is braved with ranks of foreign powers.”

Hubert: “Arm you against your other enemies, I’ll make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never entered yet the dreadful motion of a murderous thought; and you have slandered nature in my form.”

King John: “Does Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, throw this report on their incensed rage. Forgive the comment that my passion made upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, and foul imaginary eyes of blood presented thee more hideous than thou are.”

Summary and Analysis

King John speaks of having a second coronation to Salisbury and Pembroke. They think it is a horrible idea and King John says he will follow their directives. They request of him that Arthur be released, as he is beloved of the people and poses very little threat. After King John speaks with Hubert he returns and announces that Arthur is dead. The lords are very displeased by this and insist that foul play is at work. King John reflects on how his reign seems to be disintegrating with the angry lords and invading French forces. He inquires of his mother and is informed that she has died, as has Arthur’s mother, Constance. The Bastard reports that he has collected a handsome sum from the monasteries but that the people he encountered across the country are angry and predict that John’s reign will soon come to an end. King John instructs the Bastard to try to rally support from the lords. Hubert arrives with news that there have been five moons in the sky from which the people prophecize a vey bad omen of things to come. King John blames Hubert for the death of Arthur, claiming he talked him into it and that even having him around influenced King John to go along with the idea. As we know, Hubert never did kill Arthur and he informs King John that the lad is alive. John is thrilled to hear this and wants the lords informed immediately and asking Hubert to forgive him for being so harsh. John’s fortunes are in steep decline. His mother, his closest and most trusted counsellor, dies and his rule then gets even weaker and less predictable. His behaving is increasingly child-like and petulant. His lords are turning against him and the French army is approaching, while omens and prophecies foretell even worse to come.

Act IV

Scene iii

England, before the castle

Enter Arthur, upon the walls

Arthur: “The wall is high, and yet will I leap down. Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! I am afraid; and yet I’ll venture it. If I get down and do not break my limbs, I’ll find a thousand shifts to get away. (leaps down) O me! My uncle’s spirit is in these stones. Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones.” (he dies)

Bastard: “Distempered lords! The King by me requests your presence straight.”

Salisbury: “The King has dispossessed himself of us. We will not line his thin destained cloak with our poor honours, nor attend the foot that leaves the print of blood wherever it walks. Return and tell him so. We know the worst. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.”

Bastard: “But there is little reason in your grief.”

Salisbury: “This is the bloodiest shame, the wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, that ever wall eyed wrath or staring rage presented to the tears of soft remorse.”

Bastard: “It is a damned and bloody work.”

Salisbury: “It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand; the practice and the purpose of the King; from whose obedience I forbid my soul, kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, the incense of a vow, a holy vow, never to taste the pleasures of the world, till I have set a glory to this hand by giving it the worship of revenge.”

Pembroke: “Our souls religiously confirm thy words.”

Enter Hubert

Hubert: “Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. Arthur does live.”

Salisbury: “Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!”

Hubert: “I am no villain.”

Bigot: “Out dunghill”

Salisbury: “Thou art a murderer.”

Hubert: “Do not prove me so.”

Pembroke: “Cut him to pieces.”

Bastard: “Keep the peace, I say.”

Salisbury: “Stand by or I will gall you, Faulconbridge.”

Bastard: “They were better to gall the devil, Salisbury. I’ll spike thee dead. Put up thy sword or I’ll so maul you that you should think the devil is come from hell.”

Bigot: “Who killed this prince?”

Hubert: “I honoured him, I loved him, and will weep my date of life out for his sweet life’s loss.”

Salisbury: “Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, for villainy is not without such rheum. Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor the uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house.”

Bigot: “Away toward the Dauphin there!”

Pembroke: “There tell the King he may inquire us out.”

Hubert: “Do but hear me, sir.”

Bastard: “Ha! I’ll tell thee what: thou art damned as black – nay, nothing is so black – thou art more deep damn than Prince Lucifer; there is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell as thou shall be, if thou did kill this child.”

Hubert: “Upon my soul -“

Bastard: “If thou did but consent to this most cruel act, do but despair; and if thou wants a cord, the smallest thread that ever a spider twisted from her womb will serve to strangle thee; or would thou drown thyself, put but a little water in a spoon, and it shall be as all the ocean, enough to stifle all a villain up. I do suspect thee grievously.”

Hubert: “If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath, let hell want pains enough to torture me! I left him well.”

Bastard: “Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way among the thorns and dangers of this world. From forth this morsel of dead royalty the life, the right, the truth of all this realm is fled to heaven; and England now is left to tug and scramble. Vast confusion waits, as does a raven on a sick-fallen beast. Bear away that child. I’ll to the King.”

Summary and Analysis

Arthur stands atop his prison wall, planning to jump and escape. But the jump is a long one and he is afraid. He jumps and dies. Lords Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot inform the Bastard that they no longer support the King. When they see the dead body of Arthur they are horrified, believing it is the work of King John and Hubert. Just then Hubert arrives and insists that Arthur is alive, unaware that he has jumped off the wall to his death. When informed that Arthur is indeed dead Hubert insists that he had nothing to do with it. The lords do not believe him and storm off to support the Dauphin’s invasion of England. The Bastard tells Hubert that he is eternally damned if he had anything to do with the death of Arthur. Hubert continues to insist that he is innocent and they proceed to find the King. We know that Arthur’s death was accidental but there is nothing Hubert or King John can do to exonerate themselves. Besides, King John is responsible for jailing Arthur and then sending Hubert in to blind and kill him. Hubert may not be able to bring himself to carry out the murder but Arthur’s deadly escape attempt is only necessary because John has confined him so. The noose is tightening around John’s neck as Act V begins.

Act V (7 scenes)

Scene i

England. King John’s palace.

Enter King John and Pandulph

King John: “Thus have I yielded up into your hands the circle of my glory.”

Pandulph: (gives back the crown) “Take again from this my hand your sovereign greatness and authority.”

King John: “Now keep your holy word; go meet the French; and use all your power to stop their marching before we are enflamed. Our discontinued counties do revolt; our people quarrel with obedience, swearing allegiance and love of soul to stranger blood, to foreign royalty. Pause not; for the present time is so sick that present medicine must be ministered or overthrow incurable ensues.

Pandulph: “It was my breath that blew this tempest up; but since you are a gentle converter, my tongue shall hush again this storm of war and make fair weather in your blustering land. Upon your oath of service to the Pope, go I to make the French lay down their arms.”

Exit Pandulph

King John: “Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet say that before Ascension-Day at noon my crown I should give off? Even so I have. But, heaven be thanked, it is but voluntary.”

Enter the Bastard

Bastard: “All Kent has yielded. Nothing there holds out but Dover Castle. London has received the Dauphin and his powers. Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone to offer service to your enemy; and wild amazement hurries up and down the little number of your doubtful friends.”

King John: “Would not my lords return to me again after they heard young Arthur was alive?”

Bastard: “They found him dead and cast into the streets, where the jewel of life by some damned hand was robbed and taken away.”

King John: “That villain Hubert told me he did live.”

Bastard: “So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? Let not the world see fear and sad distrust govern the motion of a kingly eye. Be stirring as the time; threaten the threatener; so shall inferior eyes grow great by your example and put on the dauntless spirit of resolution. Away, and glister like the god of war; show boldness and aspiring confidence.”

King John: “The legate of the Pope has been with me, and I have made a happy peace with him; and he has promised to dismiss the powers led by the Dauphin.”

Bastard: “O inglorious league! Shall we, upon the footing of our land, make compromise, parlay and base truth, to arms invasive? Shall a fearless boy brave our fields and flesh his spirit in a war-like soil, and find no check? Let us, my liege, too arms.”

Summary and Analysis

King John has made his peace with the Catholic Church, which he hopes will eliminate the French threat of invasion. However, his lords have pretty much all abandoned him and gone over to support the Dauphin, due to what they imagine was King John’s role in the death of young Arthur. The Bastard convinces him to arm and confront the French. The King is in desperation mode, as his kingdom crumbles around him. He may have made peace with Rome, but not with his own nobles, commoners or the French forces.

Act V

Scene ii

England. The Dauphin’s camp.

Enter the Dauphin (Lewis), Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke and Bigot.

Salisbury: “Noble Dauphin, albeit we swear a voluntary zeal and an un-urged faith to your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time should seek a plaster by contemned revolt, and heal the inveterate canker of one wound by making many. O, it grieves my soul that I must be a widow-maker, there where honourable rescue and defence cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time that we cannot deal but with the very hand of stern injustice and confused wrong. And is it not pity, O my grieved friends, that we, the sons and children of this isle, were born to see so sad an hour as this, wherein we step after a stranger-march upon her gentle bosom, and fill up her enemy’s ranks – I must withdraw and weep upon the spot of this enforced cause.”

Lewis: “A noble temper does thou show in this; let me wipe off this honourable dew that does progress on thy cheeks. Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, and with a great heart heave away this storm; come, come; for thou shall thrust thy hand as deep into the purse of rich prosperity as Lewis himself. So, nobles, shall you all, that knit your sinews to the street of mine. (enter Pandulph) Look where the holy legate comes apace to give us warrant from the hand of heaven and on our actions set the name of right with holy breath.”

Pandulph: “Hail, noble prince of France! King John has reconciled himself to Rome; his spirit has come in, that so stood out against the holy church. Therefore, thy threatening colours now wind up and tame the savage spirit of wild war, that it may lie gently at the foot of peace.”

Lewis: “Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars between this chastised kingdom and myself and brought in matter that should feed this fire; and now tis far too huge to be blown out with that same weak wind which enkindled it. You thrust this enterprise into my heart; and come ye now to tell me John has made his peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, after young Arthur, claim this land for mine; and, now it is half conquered, must I back because that John has made his peace with Rome? Am I Rome’s slave? Have I not here the best cards of the game to win this easy match, played for a crown? And shall I now give over the yielded set? No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.”

Enter the Bastard

Bastard: “According to the fair play of the world, I am sent to speak. From the King I come to learn how you have dealt for him.”

Pandulph: “The Dauphin is too wild-opposite; he flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.”

Bastard: “The youth says well. Now hear our English King; for thus his royalty does speak in me. He is prepared. This unaired sauciness and boyish troops the King does smile at; and is well prepared to whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms. Know the gallant monarch is in arms, and you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, you bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb of your dear mother England, blush for shame.”

Lewis: “We grant thou can outscold us. Fare thee well; we hold our time too precious to be spent with such a babbler.”

Pandulph: “Give me leave to speak.”

Bastard: “No, I will speak.”

Lewis: “We will attend to neither. Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war plead for our interest and our being here.”

Bastard; “Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; and so shall you, being beaten. Do but start the clamour of thy drum, and even at hand a drum is ready braced that shall reverberate all as loud as thine: sound but another, and another shall rattle the ear. Warlike John is this day to feast upon the whole thousands of the French.”

Lewis: “Strike up our drums to find this danger out.”

Bastard: “And thou shall find it out, Dauphin, do not doubt.”

Summary and Analysis

In the Dauphin’s camp Salisbury declares his loyalty to the French side but admits that it is very painful for him to do so. The Dauphin appeals to Salisbury and the other English lords to not be so sentimental and to look forward to the prosperity that will follow. Pandulph arrives to announce that England has made its peace with Rome and that therefore the French should curtail their advance upon English soil. The Dauphin simply cannot do this. It was Rome that set the French against England and now that it is coming along very successfully, the Dauphin refuses to surrender his advantage. The bastard appears to tell the French that King John has taken an army to the field that will destroy the French. The Dauphin insists that they will continue their attack on England and a clash of armies seems inevitable.

Act V

Scene iii

England. The field of battle.

Enter King John and Hubert

King John: “How goes the day with us, Hubert?”

Hubert: “Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty?”

King John: “This fever that has troubled me so lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, desires your majesty to leave the field and send him word by me which way you go. Be of good comfort; for the great supply that was expected by the Dauphin here are wrecked. The French fight coldly and retire themselves.”

King John: “Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up, and will not let me welcome the good news. Weakness possesses me and I am faint.”

Summary and Analysis

King John is distraught on the battlefield with Hubert. He has a fever that troubles him. A messenger arrives to say that the French supplies have been wrecked at sea and that the French forces are in repeat. The King’s fever will not allow him to celebrate this good news because he is so weak and faint. As we shall soon learn, this fever and weakness is more than just a sickness.

Act V

Scene iv

England. Another part of the battlefield.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot.

Salisbury: “I did not think the King so stored with friends. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, in spite of spite, alone upholds the day.”

Pembroke: “They say King John, sore sick, has left the field.”

Enter Melun wounded.

Pembroke: “It is the Count Melun.”

Salisbury: “Wounded to death.”

Melun: “Fly, noble English, unthread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out King John, and fall before his feet; for if the French be lords of this loud day, he means to recompense the pains you take by cutting off your heads. This has he sworn.”

Salisbury: “May this be possible? May this be true?”

Melun: “Have I not hideous death within my view retaining but a quantity of life, which bleeds away? What is the world should make me now deceive, since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false, since it is true that I must die here. I say again, if Lewis does win the day, he is forsworn if ever those eyes of yours behold another day break in the east; but even this night your breathing shall expire if Lewis by your assistance wins the day. For that my grandsire was an Englishman awakes my conscience to confess all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence from forth the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.”

Salisbury: “We do believe thee. My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; for I do see the cruel pangs of death right in thine eye.”

Summary and Analysis

Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot are astonished that the English army is so powerful. Melun, a wounded French lord, appeals to them to make their peace with King John because if the French win the day, the Dauphin has pledged to murder all of the English lords who have fought for France. O the shifting sands of war.

Act V

Scene V

England. The French Camp.

Enter Lewis

Lewis: “O, bravely came off we. After such bloody toil, we bid goodnight, and wound our tottering colours clearly up.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “The Count Melun is slain; the English lords by his persuasion are again fallen off, and your supply, which you have wished for so long, are cast away and sunk.”

Lewis: “Ah, foul, shrewd news! I did not think to be so sad tonight as this has made me.”

Summary and Analysis

The fortunes here turn against Lewis the Dauphin and the French forces, as the English lords have deserted them and their much needed essential supplies have been wrecked at sea. Their prospects of defeating England are now remote.

Act V

Scene vi

An open place near Swinstead Abbey

Enter the Bastard and Hubert

Bastard: “Come, come. What news abroad?”

Hubert: “News fitting to the night, black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.”

Bastard: “Show me the very wound of this ill news; I’ll not swoon at it.”

Hubert: “The King, I fear, is poisoned by a monk; I left him almost speechless and broke out to acquaint you with this evil.”

Bastard: “Who did taste to him?”

Hubert: “A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain. The King yet speaks.”

Bastard: “Who did thou leave to tend his Majesty?”

Hubert: “The Lords have all come back and they brought Prince Henry in their company; at whose request the King has pardoned them, and they are all about his Majesty.”

Bastard: “Conduct me to the King.”

Summary and Analysis

Good news and bad news. The lords have returned to the King. But the King has been poisoned by a monk, likely in response to the raiding of the monasteries. The end is near for King John and our play.

Act V

Scene vii

The orchard at Swinstead Abbey

Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot.

Prince Henry: “It is too late; the life of all his blood is touched corruptibly, and his pure brain, which some suppose the soul’s frail dwelling-house, does by the idle comments that it makes foretell the end of mortality.

Enter Pembroke

Pembroke: “His Highness yet does speak, and holds belief that, being brought into the open air, it would allay the burning quality of that fell poison which assails him.”

Prince Henry: “Let him be brought into the orchard here. Does he still rage?”

Pembroke: “He is more patient than when you left him.”

Prince Henry: “O vanity of sickness! His siege is now against his mind, the which he pricks and wounds with many legions of strange fantasies, which confound themselves.”

Salisbury: “Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born to set a form upon that indigent which he has left so shapeless and so rude.”

King John is carried in on a chair

King John: “Ay, marry, now my soul has elbow room. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, that all my bowels crumble up to dust, and against this fire do I shrink up.”

Prince Henry: “How fares your majesty?”

King John: “Poisoned – iil-fare! dead, forsook, cast-off. I beg cold comfort. Within me is a hell; and there the poison is as a fiend confined to tyrannize on unreprievable condemned blood.”

Enter the Bastard

Bastard: “O, I am scaled with my violent motion and spleen of speed to see your majesty.”

King John: “O cousin, the tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt and my heart has one poor string to stay it by, which holds but till thy news be uttered.”

Bastard: “The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, where God he knows how we shall answer him.”

King John dies

Prince Henry: “What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, when this was now a king, and now is clay?”

Bastard: “I do but stay behind to do the office for thee of revenge, and then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, as it on earth has been thy servant still. Instantly return with me again to push destruction and perpetual shame out of the weak door of our fainting land. Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; the Dauphin rages at our very heels.”

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

Bastard: “He will the rather do it when he sees ourselves well sinewed to our defence.”

Salisbury: “Nay, tis in a manner done already.”

Bastard: “Let it be so.”

Prince Henry: “At Worcester must his body be interred.”

Bastard: “Thither shall it, then. And happily may your sweet self put on the lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee I do bequeath my faithful services and true subjection everlastingly.”

Salisbury: “And the like tender of our love we make.”

Prince Henry: “I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, and knows not how to do it but with tears.”

Bastard: “This England never did, nor never shall, lie at the proud foot of a conquerer, but when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes have come home again, come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them; nought shall make us rue, if England to itself do rest but true.”

Summary and Analysis

So ends the Life and Death of King John, likely Shakespeare’s first history play. The King is clearly dying. His son and heir, Prince Henry, mourns the fact that his father’s mind is gone while his body persists. John is brought in speaking wildly about having been poisoned. He finally dies and his son mourns him while they discuss his funeral. The final words belong to the bastard, who swears his loyalty to Prince Henry and proclaims that England has never been in danger of being conquered except when it divided against itself. England is now strong again and will remain so, according to the Bastard, so long as its citizens remain loyal. This is perhaps a look ahead to the War of the Roses, a struggle between the houses of Lancaster and York, that will tear the country apart from in the 15th century and will be the focus of several subsequent Shakespearean histories. Prince Henry will assume the throne upon the death of King John and will rule England, as King Henry III, for 56 years, the longest reign of an English monarch until that of George III in the 19th century.

Final Thoughts

King John stands alone in the history plays of Willam Shakespeare. John’s reign (1199-1216) was by far the earliest of all of Shakespeare’s historical monarchs. King Richard II (1377-1399), King Henry IV (1399-1413), Henry V (1413-1422) and Henry VI (1422-1461) tell the uninterrupted story of war and succession. The same story is picked up three monarch’s later with Richard III and then two monarchs later with Henry VIII (1509-1547), not long before Queen Elizabeth’s reign (1588-1603) and Shakespeare’s time. King John is concerned with many of the same themes as the other histories, namely a king’s efforts to retain the crown in the face of rival claims, debates about what constitutes legitimate rule, off and on again wars with France, complete with climactic battles, conflicts with the Church in Rome, disloyal lords, murders, assassinations, threats of invasions and the death of a king. And yet, King John remains among the most obscure of all of Shakespeare’s works for several reasons. The narrative is thin, there is no defining event and the only historically memorable occurrence in the reign of King John, the signing of the Magna Carta, is not even mentioned. The ending is generally regarded as unsatisfactory and all of the characters other than the Bastard do not seem fully developed. On the other hand, the Bastard is a marvellous character and several speeches throughout the play are as fine as you will see in any of the Bard’s work. Characters are often examining their own identities in these impressive reflections. King John, in the end, is regarded as a rather uneven bag of tricks whether read or performed. Nonetheless, you can find several Youtube audio versions and at least two stage productions (The Wichita Shakespeare Company and the MIT Shakespeare Ensemble). There is no record of any stage productions of King John in Shakespeare’s day and in fact the earliest one we are aware of is as late as 1737 in Covent Gardens, London. Well regarded 20th century stagings have seen Ralph Richardson, Paul Scofield and Richard Burton in the role of the Bastard.

Timon of Athens

Introduction

Timon of Athens is play that has always existed on the fringes of the repertory. Written on the very heels of the great tragedies, it’s companion piece would seem to be Coriolanus, another story of a protagonist treated unjustly and tragically withdrawing from society. Timon moves from being a renowned philanthropist to an extreme misanthrope, but only finds torment and death. His tragic flaw is either his excessive goodness or his foolish naiveté . It is a harsh play. In the end, Timon is bitter and revenge minded, entirely consumed by the darkest components of human nature. And then he dies.

Timon is a very wealthy and generous Athenian as the play begins. He joyfully gives everything he has to his friend and acquaintances until he finally goes broke as a result. When he turns to these same friends for help, they outright refuse him. He then invites them all to a banquet and serves hot water in bowls, which he throws at them. Timon chooses to become a hermit in a cave near the sea, away from the society of Athens. Here he digs up a hidden treasure and gives it away to whores, bandits and to his one friend, Alcibaides, who is leading an army against the corrupt senators of Athens. Timon pretty much rejects everyone who comes out to try to reason with him. Alcibiades wins the war against the senate and promises to rule Athens justly. News arrives that Timon died committed to his hatred of humanity.

Timon is a tragic figure who we can feel sorry for but never regard him anywhere near the status of King Lear, who, in the end, is redeemed by his suffering. Timon has no such epiphanies, does nothing but rail and dies a soulless and pathetic man. Few of Shakespeare’s characters embody such a nihilistic vision with the same commitment as Timon. There is a persistent intensity throughout this play, without relief or diversion. There is even very little plot to speak of. Appropriately enough, there is a cynical philosopher in the play, Apemantus, who condemns Timon as well as his false friends. Their sparing exchanges certainly are among the highlights. Flavius is Timon’s steward and is warm and sympathetic to his plight: ‘I bleed inwardly for my lord’. His human kindness is in sharp contrast to nearly everyone else in the play, including the seriously foolish old Athenian Senators.

There is an excessive fury, bordering on madness, that inhabits Timon of Athens. But Shakespeare clearly struggles with this final tragic depiction. In that sense it is a transitional play, positioned between the great tragedies and the emerging romances. There is little inwardness of character development in this play and perhaps Shakespeare realizes that it is time to move on to some new style. There will be no more tragedies. He seems, on occasion, to be at something of a loss here. The focus is so much on Timon that the various supporting characters are never sufficiently developed and coming out of such a period of extraordinary tragic genius, this work can appear tired. The only women are whores and there is no conventional love plot to be found. Hence, the romances, up next, will explode with extensive plots, a multitude of characters, miraculous misadventures, spectacular sets, costumes and dramatic resolution scenes. And yet, Timon of Athens can be staged quite effectively, is thematically relevant to all times and places (can money buy love?) and contains several superbly written scenes. Although widely regarded as better seen than read, nonetheless, we proceed.

Act I (2 scenes)

Scene i

Athens. Timon’s house

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller and Merchant

Poet: “Good day, sir. How goes the world?”

Painter: “It wears, sir, as it grows.”

Poet: “Ay, that’s well known.”

Jeweller: “I have a jewel here.”

Merchant: “For the Lord Timon, sir? Tis a good form.”

Poet: “What have you there?”

Painter: “A picture, sir.”

Poet: “So it is. This comes off well and excellent. I would say it tutors nature livelier than life.”

Enter certain Senators.

Painter: “How this lord is followed!”

Poet: “You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. You see how all minds and slippery creatures tender down their services to Lord Timon. His large fortune and gracious nature subdues all sorts of hearts, from the glass faced flatterers to Apemantus; even he drops down the knee before him.”

Enter Timon and a visitor.

Timon: “Imprisoned is he, you say?”

Messenger: “Ay, my good lord. Five talents is his debt; your honourable letter he desires to those who shut him up.”

Timon: “Well, I am not of that feather to shake off my friend when he must need me. I do know him a gentleman who well deserves a help, which he shall have. I’ll pay the debt, and free him. Commend me to him; I will send his ransom. Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after. Fare you well.”

Enter an old Athenian.

Old Athenian: “Lord Timon, hear me speak.”

Timon: “Freely, good father.”

Old Athenian: “Thou has a servant named Lucilius.”

Timon: “I have so; what of him?”

Old Athenian: “Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.”

Timon: “Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!”

Lucilius: “Here, at your lordship’s service.”

Old Athenian: “This fellow here, Timon, this thy creature, by night frequents my house. Only one daughter have I on whom I may confer what I have. The maid is fair, and I have bred her at my dearest cost in qualities of the best. This man of thine attempts her love. I prithee, noble lord, forbid him her resort; myself has spoken in vain.”

Timon: “The man is honest. Does she love him?”

Old Athenian: “She is young and apt.”

Timon: (to Lucilius) “Love you the maid?”

Lucilius: “Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.”

Timon: “This gentleman of mine has served me long; to build his fortune I will strain little. Give him thy daughter.”

Old Athenian: “My noble lord, she is his.”

Lucilius: “Humbly I thank your lordship.”

Exit Lucilius and the Old Athenian

Poet: (presenting his poem) “Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!”

Timon: “I thank you. Go not away. What have you there, my friend?”

Painter: “A piece of painting, which I do beseech your lordship to accept.”

Timon: “Painting is welcome. I like your work, and you shall find I like it. Wait till you hear further from me.”

Painter: “The gods preserve thee.”

Timon: “Sir, your jewel has suffered under praise.”

Jewelle: “Believe it, dear lord, you mend the jewel by wearing it.”

Enter Apemantus

Timon: “Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!”

Apemantus: Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; when thou art Timon’s dog, and these knaves honest.”

Timon: “Why does thou call them knaves? Thou knows them not.”

Apemantus: “Are they not Athenians?”

Timon: Yes.”

Apemantus: “Then I repent not.”

Timon: “Thou art proud, Apemantus.”

Apemantus: “Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.”

Timon: “Wither art thou going?”

Apemantus: “To knock out an honest Athenian’s brains.”

Timon: “How like thou this picture, Apemantus? Wrought he not well who painted it?”

Apemantus: “He wrought better who made the painter; and yet he is but a filthy piece of work.”

Painter: “You are a dog.”

Apemantus: “Thy mother; what is she, if I be a dog?”

Timon: “Will thou dine with me, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “No, I eat not lords.”

Timon: “How does thou like this jewel, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.”

Timon: “What does those think tis worth?”

Apemantus: “Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!”

Poet: “How now, philosopher!”

Apemantus: “Thou lies.”

Poet: “Are thou not one?”

Apemantus: “Yes.”

Poet: “Then I lie not.”

Apemantus: “Art thou not a poet?”

Poet: “Yes.”

Apemantus: “Then thou lies. Look in thy last work”, where thou has feigned him a worthy fellow.”

Poet: “That’s not feigned – he is so.”

Apemantus: “Yes, he is worthy of thee and pays thee for thy labour. He who loves to be flattered is worthy of the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord.”

Timon: “What would thou do then, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “Even as Apemantus does now: hate a lord with my heart.”

Timon: “What, thyself?”

Apemantus: “Ay.”

Timon: “Wherefore?”

Apemantus: “That I had no angry wit to be a lord.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Tis Alcibiades and some twenty horses.”

Enter Alcibiades

Timon: “Right welcome, sir! Ere we depart we’ll share a bounteous time in different pleasures.”

Exit all but Apemantus and two lords.

1 Lord: “What time of day is it, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “Time to be honest.”

2 Lord: “Are thou going to Lord Timon’s feast?”

Apemantus: “Ay, to see meat filled knaves and wine heat fools.”

2 Lord: “Fare thee well, fare thee well.”

Apemantus: “Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.”

2 Lord: “Why, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “You should have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.”

1 Lord: “Hang thyself.”

Apemantus: “No, I will do nothing at thy bidding.”

2 Lord: “Away unpeaceable dog, or I’ll spurn thee hence.”

Apemantus: “I will fly, like a dog.”

Exit Apemantus

1 Lord: “He’s opposite to humanity. Come shall we go in and taste Lord Timon’s bounty? He outdoes the very heart of kindness. The noblest mind he carries that ever governed man.”

2 Lord: “Long may he live in fortune!”

Summary and Analysis

The basic premise is laid out clearly in the first scene. Timon is a very wealthy lord who generously bestows whatever is asked of him by his so-called friends. They gather at his home to sell him their poetry, paintings and jewelry. He offers to pay the debt of a man who is being held in prison and provides a considerable sum to his servant so that he can marry a wealthy man’s daughter. Apemantus, the cynical philosopher, arrives and banters with Timon and then insults some of the flatters and lords. He clearly believes that these hanger-oners are taking advantage of Timon’s generosity and he is deliberate in his condemnation of them. Shakespeare so often has such a vocal cynic in his plays, providing acerbic commentary on the goings on as he sees fit. Apemantus is one of the better of these and, as we will see, he is bang on about these flatterers. As long as Timon’s money holds out, everyone is happy. But this is, after all, a tragedy.

Act I

Scene ii

A room in Timon’s house

Loud music playing. A great banquet served.

Enter Timon, Flavius (his servant), many Lords and Apemantus

Ventidius: (whom he retrieved from prison) Most honoured Timon, it has pleased the gods to remember my father’s age, and call him to long peace. He is gone happy and has made me rich then, as in grateful virtue I am bound to your free heart. I do return those talents, doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derived liberty.”

Timon: “O, by no means, honest Ventidius! You mistake my love: I gave it freely ever; and there’s none can truly say he gives, if he receives.”

Ventidius: “A noble spirit!”

Timon: “Pray, sit: more welcome are you to my fortunes than my fortunes to me. O, Apemantus, you are welcome.”

Apemanus: “No, you shall not make me welcome. I come to have you thrust me out of doors.”

Timon: “Fie, thou art a churl; you have got a humour there, does not become a man. My lords, yonder man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself; for he does neither affect company nor is he fit for it indeed.”

Apemantus: “I come to observe; I give thee warning on it.”

Timon: “I take no heed of thee. Thou art an Athenian, therefore welcome. Prithee, let my meat make thee silent.”

Apemantus: “I scorn thy meat; t’would choke me, for I should never flatter thee. O, you gods, what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees them not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man’s blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up, too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. Methinks they should invite them without knives: good for their meat and safer for their lives. The fellow who sits next to him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him. Great men should drink with a harness on their throats.”

Timon: “My lord, in heart! And let the health go around.”

2 Lord: “Let it flow this way, my good lord.”

Apemantus: “Flow this way! A brave fellow! Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill.”

Apemantus’ grace:

“Immortal gods, I pray for no man but myself. Grant I should never prove so fond to trust a man on his oath or bond, or a harlot for her weeping, or a dog that seems a-sleeping, or my friends, if I should need them. Amen. So fall to it. Rich men sin, and I eat root.”

Timon: “Captain Alcibiades, you heart is in the field now.”

Alcibiades: “My heart is ever at your service, my lord.”

Timon: “You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.”

Alcibiades: “I could wish my best friends at such a feast.”

Apemantus: “Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that thou might kill them.”

Timon: “My good friends, the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you. I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and this far I confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends if we should never have need of them? They were the most needless creatures living, should we never have use for them; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits; and what better can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O what a precious comfort it is to have so many like brothers commanding one another’s fortunes! My eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. I drink to you.”

Apemantus: “Thou weeps to make them drink, Timon.”

Enter a servant

Servant: “Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.”

Timon: “Ladies! What are their wills? I pray, let them be admitted.”

Enter Cupid

Cupid: “Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all that of his bounties taste! The five best senses acknowledge thee their patron.”

Timon: “They’re welcome all; let them have kind admittance.”

1 Lord: “You see, my lord, how ample you are beloved.”

Enter a masque of ladies as Amazons, with lutes, dancing and playing.”

Apemantus: “What a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance? They are mad women, like madness is the glory of this life. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves. Who lives who is not depraved or depraves? Who dies but spares not one spurn to their graves of their friends’ gift? I should fear those who dance before me now would one day stamp upon me.”

Lords rise from the table and each singles out an Amazon, and all dance.

Timon: “You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies. I am to thank you for it.”

1 Lady: “My lord, you take us even at the best.”

Apemantus: “Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.”

Exit Cupid and the ladies.

Timon: “Flavius!”

Flavius: “My lord?”

Timon: “The little casket, bring me hither.”

Flavius: “Yes, my lord. (aside) More jewels yet! There is no crossing him in his humour, else I should tell him – well in faith, I should – when all is spent, he’d be crossed then.”

Timon: “O my friends, I have one word to say to you. Look you, my good lord, I must entreat you to honour me so much as to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it, my lord.”

1 Lord: “I am so far in your gifts – “

All: “So are we all.”

Enter servant

Servant: “My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate newly alighted who come to visit you.”

Timon: “They are fairly welcome.”

Flavius: “I beseech your honour, vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.”

Timon: “Near! Why then, another time I’ll hear thee. I prithee, lets be provided to show them entertainment.”

2 Servant: “May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, out of his free love, has presented to you three milk white horses, tapped in silver.”

Timon: “I shall accept them fairly.”

3 Servant: “Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company tomorrow to hunt with him and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.”

Timon: “I’ll hunt with him, and let them be received, not without fair reward.”

Flavius: (aside) “What will this come to? He commands us to provide and give great gifts, and all out of an empty coffer; nor will he know his purse. Here, my lord, or yield me this, to show him what a beggar his heart is, being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state that what he speaks is all in debt; he owes for every word. He is so kind that he now pays interest for it; well, would I were gently put out of office before I were forced out! Happier is he who has no friends to feed, than such who have enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord.”

Timon: “You do yourselves much wrong. Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.”

2 Lord: “With more than common thanks I will receive it.”

Timon: “I weigh my friend’s affection with my own. I take all and your several visitations so kind to heart ’tis not enough to give; methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends and never be weary. Alcibiades, thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich; for all thy living is among the dead, and all the lands thou has lie in a pitched field.”

Alcibiades: “Ay, defiled land, my lord.”

1 Lord: “We are so virtuously bound.”

Timon: “And so am I to you.”

2 Lord: “So infinitely endeared.”

Timon: “All to you.”

1 Lord: “The best of happiness, honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!”

Exit all but Apemantus and Timon

Apemantus: “What a coil is here. Friendships full of dregs: methinks false hearts should never have sound legs. Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies.”

Timon: “Now, Apemantus, If thou were not sullen, I would be good to thee.”

Apemantus: “No, I’ll nothing; for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou would sin the faster. Thy gives so long, Timon, I fear me thou will give away thyself shortly. What needs these feasts, pomps and vainglories?”

Timon: “Nay, as you begin to rail on society, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, and come with better music.”

Exit Timon

Apemantus: “So. Thou will not hear me now: thou shall not then. O that men’s ears should be to counsel deaf, but not to flattery!”

Summary and Analysis

In this scene we are witness to Timon’s great feast for his friends / flatterers, in which he spares no expense to lavish his guests with his unmitigated generosity and kindness. When Apemantus arrives his presence is unlike anyone else, with his overall biting cynicism and sharp barbs for each person his speaks with. He does not believe for a second that these people care one bit about Timon. They are leaches not to be trusted. He is angry at Timon for not seeing this. Flavius, Timon’s servant, is also concerned for Timon because he keeps the financial records and sees that his reserves are drying up and that he is virtually in debt, even as he continues to spend lavishly on his guests. But this is the end game of his generosity, as act I comes to a close. He will be called to account in act II and from there it only gets worse. Apemantus was right after all: ‘O, you gods. What a number of men eat Timon, and he sees it not.’

Act II

Scene i

A senator’s house.

Enter a senator, with papers

Senator: “And late, five thousand. To Varro and Isidore he owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. Caphis, ho!”

Caphis: “Here, sir; what is your pleasure?”

Senator: “Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon; importune him for my monies, be not ceased with slight denial, nor be silenced. But tell him my uses cry to me, I must serve my turn out of my own; his days and times are past. I love and honour him, but must not break my back to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my relief must find supply immediate. Get you gone; put on a most importunate aspect, a visage of demand; for I do fear, when every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.”

Caphis: “I go, sir.”

Summary and Analysis

Here comes the fall. This senator has loaned Timon money, as have many others, in order to allow him to finance his extravagances. And now they will demand their money, which he no longer has. This has been a recipe for disaster, whose time has come. Timon’s life is about to change dramatically, along with Timon.

Act II (2 scenes)

Scene ii

Before Timon’s house.

Enter Flavius with many bills in his hands.

Flavius: “No care, no stop! So senseless of expense that he will neither know how to maintain it nor cease his flow of riot; takes no account how things go from him, nor resumes no care of what is to continue. What shall be done? I must be round with him.”

Enter Caphis and the servants of Isidore and Varro.

Caphis: “Good even, Varro. What, you come for money?”

Varro’s Servant: “Is it not your business too?”

Caphis: “It is. And your business too, Isidore?”

Isidore’s Servant: “It is so.”

Cahpis: “Here comes the lord.”

Enter Timon with Alcibiades

Caphis: “My lord, here is a note of certain dues.”

Timon: “Dues! Whence are you?”

Caphis: “Of Athens here, my lord.”

Timon: “Go to my steward.”

Caphis: “Please it your lordship, he has put me off. My master is awakened by great occasion to call upon his own, and humbly prays you’ll give him his right.”

Timon: “My honest friend, I prithee but repair to me next morning.”

Caphis: “Nay, good my lord -“

Timon: Contain thyself, good friend.”

Varro’s Servant: “One Varro’s servant, my good lord -“

Isidore’s Servant: “From Isidore: he humbly prays your speedy payment -“

Caphis: “If you did know, my lord, my master’s wants -“

Varro’s Servant: “Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks and past.”

Isidore’s Servant: “Your Steward puts me off, my lord; and I am sent expressly to your lordship.”

Timon: “Give me breath. I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on; I’ll wait upon you instantly.”

Timon: (to Flavius) “Come hither. Pray you, how goes the world that I am thus encountered with clamorous demands of date-broke bonds and the detention of long since due debts against my honour?”

Flavius: “Please you, gentlemen, the time is unagreeable to this business. Your impotency cease till after dinner, that I may make his lordship understand wherefore you are not paid.”

Timon: “Do so, my friends. See them well entertained.”

Exit Timon and Flavius

Enter Apemantus and a fool

Caphis: “Here comes the fool with Apemantus. Let’s have some sport with them.”

Varro’s Servant: “Hang him, he’ll abuse us!”

Isidore’s Servant: “A plague upon him, dog!”

Varro’s Servant: “How dost, fool?”

Apemantus: “Does thou dialogue with thy shadow?”

Varro’s Servant: “I speak not to thee.”

Apemantus: “No, tis to thyself. Poor rogues and usurer’s men! Bawds between gold and want!”

All Servants: “What are we, Apemantus?”

Apemantus: “Asses.”

All Servants: “Why?”

Apemantus: “That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Speak to them, fool.”

Fool: “How do you, gentlemen?”

All Servants: “Good, fool.”

Fool: “Are you three usurers’ men?”

All Servants: “Ay, fool.”

Fool: “I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly and go away merry. But they enter my mistress’ house merrily and go away sadly. The reason for this?”

Varro’s Servant: “I could render one.”

Apemantus: “Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave. which notwithstanding, thou shall be no less esteemed.”

Varro’s Servant: “What is a whoremaster, fool?”

Fool: “A fool in good clothes, and sometimes like thee. Tis a spirit. Sometimes it appears like a lord; sometimes like a lawyer; sometimes like a philosopher; he is very often like a knight; and generally, in all shapes of man this spirit walks in.”

Varro’s Servant: “Thou are not altogether a fool.”

Fool: “Nor are thou altogether a wise man. As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lacks.”

Enter Timon and Flavius

Flavius: “Pray you walk near; I’ll speak with you anon.”

Timon: “You make me marvel wherefore ere this time had you not fully laid my state before me, that I might so have rated my expense as I had leave of means.”

Flavius: “You would not hear me at many leisures I proposed. O, my good lord, at many times I brought in my accounts and laid them before you; you would throw them off. You have bid me return so much, I have shook my head and wept. Against the authority of manners, I prayed you to hold your hand more close. My loved lord, though you hear now, it is too late. The greatest of your having lacks a half to pay your present debts.’

Timon: “Let all my land be sold.”

Flavius: “Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone; and what remains will hardly stop the mouth of present dues. The future comes apace. What shall defend the interim? O, my good lord, the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!”

Timon: “You tell me true.”

Flavius: “If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, call me before the exactest auditors and set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, when all our offices have been oppressed with riotous feeders, I set my eyes at flow.”

Timon: “Prithee, no more.”

Flavius: “‘Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!’ Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, the breath is gone whereof this praise is made.”

Timon: “Come, sermon me no further. Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why does thou weep? Does thou the conscience lack to think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart: if I would broach the vessels of my love, and try the argument of hearts by borrowing, men and women’s fortunes could I frankly use as I could bid thee speak.”

Flavius: “Assurance bless your thoughts!”

Timon: “And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crowned that I account them blessings; for by these shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you mistake my fortunes. I am wealthy in my friends. Within there! Flaminius! Servilius!!

Enter Flaminius and Servilius (more servants to Timon)

Timon: “I will dispatch you severally – you to Lord Lucius; to Lord Lucullus you; you too Sempronius. Commend me to their loves; and I am proud, say, that my occasions have found time to use them toward a supply of money. Let the request be fifty talents.”

Exit the servants

Timon: “Go you, sir, to the senators, of whom I have I have deserved this hearing. Bid them to send on the instant a thousand talents to me.”

Flavius: “I have been bold to them to use your signet and your name; but they do shake their heads, and I am here no richer in return.”

Timon: “Is it true? Can it be?”

Flavius: “They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, that now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot do what they would, are sorry – you are honourable – but something has been amiss – would all were well – tis a pity – and so after distasteful looks they froze me into silence.”

Timon: “You gods, reward them! Prithee, man, look cherry. These old fellows have their ingratitude in them hereditary. Their blood is caked, tis cold, it seldom flows; tis lack of kindly warmth; they are not kind. Go to Ventidius. Prithee not be sad, thou art true and honest; no blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately buried his father, by whose death he has stepped into a great estate. When he was poor, imprisoned and in scarcity of friends, I cleared him with five talents. Greet him from me, bid him suppose from good necessity touches his friend, which craves to be remembered with those five talents. Never speak or think that Timon’s fortunes among his friends can sink.”

Flavius: “I would I could not think it. That thought is bounty’s foe; being free itself, it thinks all others so.”

Summary and Analysis

Flavius, Timon’s servant, is astonished by his master’s spending. Timon refuses to hear a word from Flavius about the ruination of his expenses. In short, he is going broke due to his generosity with his friends. Servants from lords who Timon owes money to have come to collect their due. When Timon asks them to come back another day they inform him that they have been sent away too many times. When Timon questions Flavius about why he was never informed of his perilous financial state, Flavius explains that he tired to tell him many times but that he simply would not listen. Nonetheless Timon is all but certain that he can borrow money from his many friends who he has been so lavish with for so long. He sends three servants to three friends, requesting a loan, but Flavius has already tried this and was denied. They said that they were very busy and quite sorry but they could not advance Timon a loan. BY the end of the scene Timon remains confident that he can get the help he needs from those he has helped prosper for so long. It is early in the play, but this is the downfall. Timon has borrowed lots of money in order to remain so generous and now he is broke and the creditors are at his door. He must hope to borrow money from certain friends to pay back money to others. He ignored Flavius for too long and now the situation is very serious indeed. A fool appears in this scene, and he ridicules the creditor’s servants with all of the typical wit of Shakespearean fools. But the real fool is increasingly Timon. Act III will prove his final attempts to secure the money he needs from the people he trusts. It will prove the true turning point in the play and in his life.

Act III (6 scenes)

Scene i

Lucullus’ house

Flaminius, waiting to speak with Lucullus. Enter a servant.

Servant: “My lord, he is going to you.”

Flaminius: “I thank you, sir.”

Lucullus: (aside) “One of Timon’s men? A gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver basin. Flaminius, you are very welcome, sir. And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master?”

Flaminius: “His health is well, sir.”

Lucullus: “What has thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?”

Flaminius: “Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord’s behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply; who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, has sent me to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein.”

Lucullus: “La, la, la la! ‘Nothing doubting’ says he? Alas, good lord! A Noble gentleman tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I had dined with him and told him to spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I have told him, but could never get him from it. Draw near, honest Flaminius. Thy lord is a bountiful gentleman; but thou art wise, and thou knows well enough, although thou comes to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security. Here’s three solidares for thee. Good boy, wink at me, and say thou saw me not. Fair thee well.”

Flaminius: “Is it possible the world should so much differ? Fly, damned baseness, to him that worships thee.” (throws the money back)

Lucullus: “Ha! Now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.”

Exit Lucullus

Flaminius: “Let molten coin be thy damnation, thou disease of a friend! Has friendship such a faint and milky heart it turns in less than two nights? O, you gods, I feel my master’s passion! This slave unto his honour has my lord’s meat in him. Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment when he is turned to poison? O, may diseases only work upon it! And when he’s sick to death, let not that part of nature which my lord paid for be of any power to expel sickness, but prolong his hour!”

Summary and Analysis

In this scene Timon’s servant, Flaminius, appeals to Lucullus, who has long benefitted from Timon’s generosity. Lucullus praises Timon but also claims to have warned him many times to reduce his spending. Concluding that it is not a good time to lend money to friends, he gives Flaminius some coins as a bribe to lie and say that he never spoke with him. Flaminius throws the coins back at Lucullus, curses him and wishes him prolonged sickness and death.

Act III

Scene ii

A public place

Enter Lucius with 3 strangers

Lucius: “Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an honourable gentleman.”

1 Stranger: “We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord: Lord Timon’s happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him.”

Lucius: “Fie, no: do not believe it; he cannot want for money.

2 Stranger: “But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents; nay, urged extremely for it, yet was denied.”

Lucius: “How? What a strange case was that! Denied that honourable man! For my own part, I must needs confess, I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plates, jewels and such trifles; yet had he mistook him and sent to me, I should never have denied his occasions so many talents.”

Enter Servilius

Lucius: “Servilius? You are kindly met, sir. Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.”

Servilius: “May it please your honour, my lord has sent -“

Lucius: “Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord; he’s ever sending. How shall I thank him? And what has he sent me now?”

Servilius: “Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord, requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.”

Lucius: “I know his lordship is but merry with me; he cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.”

Servilius: “If his occasion were not virtuous I should not urge it half so faithfully.”

Lucius: “Does thou speak seriously, Servilius?”

Servilius: “Upon my soul, tis true, sir.”

Lucius: “Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do. I was sending to use Lord Timon myself. Commend me bountifully to my good lordship, because I have no power to be kind. And tell him this for me: I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, would you befriend me so far as to use my own words to him?”

Servilius: “Yes, sir, I shall.”

Lucius: “I’ll look you out a good turn, Servilius.”

Exit Servilius

1 Stranger: “Do you observe this, Hostilius?”

2 Stranger: “Ay, too well.”

1 Stranger: “Why, this is the world’s soul, and just of the same piece is every flatterers spirit. Who can call him his friend who dips in the same dish? For in my knowing, Timon has been this lord’s father, and kept his credit with his purse; supported his estate; nay, Timon’s money has paid his men their wages. And yet, O see the monstrousness of man when he looks out in an ungrateful shape! He does deny him what charitable men afford to beggars.”

3 Stranger: “Religion groans at it. I perceive that men must learn now with pity to dispense; for policy sits above conscience.”

Summary and Analysis

A second lord, Lucius, who benefited enormously from Timon’s generosity, turns away his servant in this scene. At first these strangers tell him that Lucullus denied Timon a loan. He can’t believe that Timon could want for money and is horrified that Lucullus would not supply him with what he needed. But then comes Servilius, Timon’s servant, who asks the same of Lucius, who suddenly does not have such money available and pleasantly sends Servilius on his way with nothing. The strangers are disgusted, as Timon was like a father to Lucius, maintaining his credit, supporting his estate and even paying the wages of his workers. And now he claims to have nothing available to help Timon in his hour of need. It is becoming clear that none of the people Timon supported will assist him in the least when he needs it the most.

Act III

Scene iii

Sempronius’ house. Enter Sempronius and a servant of Timon’s.

Sempronius: “Must he needs trouble by this? He might have tried Lucius or Lucullus; and now Ventidius is wealthy too, whom he redeemed from prison. All of these owe their estates unto him.”

Servant: “My lord, they have all been touched and found to be base metal, for they have all denied him.”

Sempronius: “They have denied him and he now sends for me? It shows but little love or judgment in him. Must I be his last refuge? Must I take the cure upon me? I am angry at him. His occasions might have wood me first. For, in my conscience, I was the first man to ever receive a gift from him. And does he think so backwardly of me now that I’ll requite it last? No. It may prove an argument of laughter to the rest and I among lords be thought a fool. But now return with this faint reply: who baits my honour shall not know my coin.”

Exit Sempronius

Servant: “Excellent! Your lordship’s a goodly villain. And I cannot think but, in the end, the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! This was my lord’s best hope; now all are fled, save only the gods. Now his friends are dead.”

Summary and Analysis

This was Timon’s last hope and Sempronius denies him because he was only asked after Lucius and Lucullus. He is slighted to have been asked last and leaves the room angry. Of course, he needed some excuse and apparently this was the best he could do. Timon has been abandoned by those he lavishly adorned with gifts for years. The great philanthropist is about to turn misanthropic in a hurry.

Act III

Scene iv

A hall in Timon’s house

Enter two of Varro’s men, meeting Lucius’ servant, all being servants of Timon’s creditors, to wait for his coming out. Enter Titus and Hortensius.

Hortensius: “Lucius! What, do we meet together?”

Lucius’ Servant: “Ay, and I think one business does command us all; for mine is money.”

Titus: “So is theirs and ours.”

Enter Philotus

Philotus: “Is not my lord seen yet?”

Lucius’ Servant: “Not yet.”

Philotus: “I wonder on it; he was wont to shine at seven.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him. Tis deepest winter in Timon’s purse. That is, one may reach deep enough and yet find little.”

Philotus: “I am of your fear for that.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Mark how strange it shows Timon in this should pay more than he owes, even as your lord should wear rich jewels.”

Hortensius: “I know my lord has spent Timon’s wealth, and now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.”

1 Varro’s Servant: “Mine is three thousand crowns. What’s yours?”

Lucius’ Servant: “Five thousand mine.”

1 Varro’s Servant: “Tis much deep.”

Enter Flaminius

Titus: “One of Lord Timon’s men.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Flaminius! Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord ready to come forth?”

Flaminius: “No, indeed, he is not.”

Titus: “We attend his lordship. Pray, signify so much.”

Flaminius: “I need not tell him; he knows you are too diligent.”

Exit Flaminius

Lucius’ Servant: “Ha! Is not that his steward? Call him! Call him!”

Titus: “Do you hear, sir? We wait for certain money here, sir.”

Flavius: “If money were as certain as your waiting, twere sure enough. Why then preferred you not your sums and bills when your false masters eat of my lord’s meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, and take down the interest into their gluttenous gullets.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Ay, but this answer will not serve.”

Flavius: “If it will not serve, tis not so base as you, for you serve knaves.”

Enter Servilius

Titus: “O, here’s Servilius; now we shall know some answer.”

Servilius: “If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from it; for take of my soul, my lord leans wondrously toward discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him; he’s much out of health and keeps to his chamber.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts, and make a clear way to the gods.”

Servillius: “Good gods!”

Enter Timon, in a rage

Titus: “My lord, here is my bill.”

Lucius’ Servant: “Here’s mine.”

Hortensius: “And mine, my lord.”

Both Varro’s Servants: “And ours, my lord.”

Philotus: “All our bills.”

Timon: “Knock me down with them. Cut my heart in sums. Tell out my blood. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!”

Exit Timon

Hortensius: “These debts may be called desperate ones, for a madman owes them.”

Re-enter Timon and Flavius

Timon: “They have even taken my breath from me, the slaves. Creditors? Devils! What if it be so? Go, bid all my friends again. I’ll once more feast the rascals.”

Flavius: “O, my lord, you only speak from your distracted soul; there is not so much left to furnish out a moderate table.”

Timon: “Go, I charge thee, invite them all; let in the tide of knaves once more; my cook and I will provide.”

Summary and Analysis

Timon’s creditors and their servants have assembled out in front of his house and wait for hm to come out. They want their money that he owes them all. The servants comment that it is strange indeed that their masters are wearing spectacular jewelry given to them as gifts from Timon at the same time they are demanding money from him. These servants understand the hypocrisy of their master’s enjoyment of Timon’s gifts to them which made Timon poor. Timon’s servants angrier ask these creditors why they did not present him with their bills while they were enjoying one of his feasts. Timon emerges in a rage and he curses them as they swarm all around him. Timon goes back inside with a plan to host one more feast for these so called friends. It will be a feast they will never forget. Timon was certain his friends would stand up for him in his hour of need. The fact that they did no such thing changes him forever.

Act III

Scene v

The Senate House

Enter three Senators and Alcibiades

1 Senator: “My lord, the fault is bloody. Tis necessary he should die: nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.”

2 Senator: “Most true; the law shall bruise him.”

Alcibiades: “Honour, health and compassion to the Senate! I am a humble suitor to your virtues; for pity is the virtue of the law, and none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood has stepped into the law. He is a man of comely virtues. With a noble fury and a fair spirit, seeing his reputation touched to death, he did oppose his foe.”

1 Senator: “You undergo too strict a paradox, striving to make an ugly deed look fair; your words have taken such pains as if they laboured to bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling upon the head of valour. You cannot make gross sins look clear.”

Alcibiades: “My lords, then pardon me if I speak like a captain. My lords, as you are great, be pitifully good. Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin’s extremest gust; but, in defence, by mercy, tis most just. Weigh but the crime with this.”

2 Senator: “You breathe in vain.”

Alcibiades: “In vain! His service done at Lacedaemon and Byzantium were a sufficient briber for his life. He has done fair service, and slain in fight many of your enemies.”

2 Senator: “He’s a sworn rioter; he has a sin that often drowns him and takes his valour prisoner. In that beastly fury he has been known to commit outrages and cherish factions. Tis inferred to us his days are foul and his drink dangerous.”

1 Senator: “He dies.”

Alcibiades: “Hard fate! He might have died in war. Take my deserts to him, and join them both. I’ll pawn my victories, all my honours to you, upon his good returns.”

1 Senator: “We are for the law: he dies. Urge it no more. He forfeits his own blood that spills another.”

Alcibiades: “Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, I do beseech you to know me and call me to your remembrances. I cannot think but your age has forgotten me. It could not else be I should prove so base to sue, and be denied such common grace. My wounds ache at you.”

1 Senator: “Do you dare our anger? We banish thee forever.”

Alcibiades: “Banish me! Banish your dotage! Banish usury that makes the Senate ugly.”

1 Senator: “If after two days should Athens contain thee, attend our weightier judgment. He shall be executed presently.”

Exit Senators

Alcibiades: “Now the gods keep you old enough that you may live only in bone, that none may look on you. I’m worse than mad. I have kept back their foes and am rich only in large hurts. All those for this? Banishment! I hate not to be banished; it is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that I might spike at Athens.”

Summary and Analysis

A subplot is developed here. Alcibiades pleads before the Senate to spare his friend, who killed a man in self defence in a state of momentary rage. He makes his case that the man is virtuous and was a great soldier in defence of Athens. The Senate will not relent and sentence the man to die. Alcibiades persists and they banish him. Alcibiades is furious, as a soldier who has many times defended Athens, and accepts his banishment as an opportunity to ‘strike at Athens’. Now both Timon and Alcibiades are outraged against the society they have each served. Their stories will intersect soon enough.

Act III

Scene vi

A banquet hall in Timon’s house

Tabes set. Servants attending. Enter the lord and friends of Timon.

2 Lord: “I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends. It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.”

1 Lord: “He has sent me an earnest invitation.”

2 Lord: “I am sorrow, when he sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out.”

1 Lord: “I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.”

2 Lord: “Everyman here is so. What would he have borrowed of you?”

1 Lord: “A thousand pieces.”

2 Lord: “Here he comes.”

Enter Timon

Timon: “With all my heart, gentlemen, how fair you?”

1 Lord: “Ever at best, hearing well of your lordship. I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger.”

Timon: “O, sir, let it not trouble you.”

2 Lord: “My most honourable lord, I am even sickened of shame that, when your lordship this other day sent to me, I was so unfortunate a beggar.”

Timon:”Think not on it, sir.”

2 Lord: “If you had sent but two hours before -“

Timon: “Let it not cumber your better remembrance.”

The banquet is brought in.

2 Lord: “All covered dishes.”

1 Lord: “How do you? What’s the news?”

3 Lord: “Alcibiades is banished. Hear you of it?”

1 and 2 Lords: “Alcibiades banished!”

3 Lord: “Tis so; be sure of it.”

1 Lord: “How? How?”

Timon: “My worthy friends, will you draw near? Your diet shall be in all places alike. Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts make yourselves praised; but reserve still to give. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another. The rest of your foes, O gods, the Senate of Athens, together with the common lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome. Uncover, dogs, and lap.”

The dishes are uncovered and seen to be full of warm water.

Some Speak: “What does his lordship mean?”

Some Others: “I know not.”

Timon: “May you a better feast never behold. Smoke and lukewarm water is your perfection. This is Timon’s last; who, stuck with your flatteries, washes it off, and sprinkles it in your faces your reeking villainy. (Timon throws water in their faces.) Live loathed and long, smiling, detested parasites, courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, you fools of fortune, trencher friends, time’s flies, slaves and vapours. What, does thou go? Soft, take thy physic first. (Timon throws the dishes at them and throws them out) What, all in motion? Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be of Timon all of humanity!”

Exit Timon. Re-enter the lords.

2 Lord: “Know you the quality of Lord Timon’s fury?”

1 Lord: “He is but a mad lord. He gave me a jewel the other day and now he has beat it out of me. Did you see my jewel?”

3 Lord: “Did you see my cap?”

4 Lord: “Here lies my gown.”

1 Lord: “Let’s make no stay.”

2 Lord: “Lord Timon’s mad.”

3 Lord: “I feel it upon my bones.”

4 Lord: “On day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.”

Summary and Analysis

The various lords assemble at Timon’s feast, figuring he must have merely been testing them when asking for money. They express regret that they were not able to help him. When Timon arrives they apologize to him for not being able to lend him money. He asks them to be seated and they chat about Alcibiades’ banishment. Then he speaks before the meal and harshly condemns the assembled guests: ‘These my present friends are nothing to me, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing they are welcome. Uncover dogs, and lap.’ Their feast is lukewarm water and stones, which Timon throws in their faces, criticizing and condemning them bitterly, claiming that henceforth he is an enemy to all of humanity. The lords merely think he has gone mad, assuming no responsibility for their behaviour. Timon changes utterly at this point, having treated his friends with kindness and generosity only to be abandoned by them all in his time of need. It is a bitter lesson and Timon deserts Athens and humanity to live alone in the wildness, a misanthrope of utmost proportion. At this point Shakespearean heroes often have revelations which save and redeem them. Not Timon. He becomes the opposite of all that he was and tragically collapses into bitterness and rage.

Act IV (3 scenes)

Scene i

Beyond the walls of Athens.

Enter Timon

Timon: “O Athens, let me look back upon thee. O thou wall that girdles in those wolves. Matrons turn incontinent. Obedience, fail in children! Slaves and fools, pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench and minister in their steads. To general filths convert on the instant. Do it in your parent’s eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast; to with your knives and cut your trustees’ throats. Bound servants, steal. Large handed robbers your grave masters are. Maid, to thy master’s bed. Thy mistress is in the brothel. Pluck the lined crutch from the old limping sire, and with it beat out his brains. Piety and fear, peace, justice, truth, night-rest, instruction, manners, mysteries and trades, degrees observances, customs and laws, decline to your confounding contraries and let confusion live. Plagues incident to men, your potent and infectious fevers heap on Athens, ripe for strokes. Thy cold sciatica, cripple our Senators, that their limbs may halt as lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty, creep into the minds and the marrow of our youth, that against the stream of virtue they may strive and drown themselves in riot. Itches and blotches sow all Athenian bosoms, and their crop be general leprosy! Breathe infected breath, that their society, as their friendship, may be merely poison! Nothing I’ll bear from thee but nakedness, thou detestable town! Timon will to the woods, where he shall find the unkindest beast more kind than mankind. The gods confound the Athenians both within and beyond that wall! And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow to the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen.”

Summary and Analysis

Timon stands outside the walls of Athens and wishes every evil on the city and all of its inhabitants. This is his scene to rant and what a rant it is. He washes his hands of humanity and proceeds as a hermit to the woods. What a very different Timon than we encountered in Act I. And as this is a tragedy, we can expect no grand reconciliation between he and his former ‘friends’. This journey into misanthropy is a one way trip.

Act IV

Scene ii

Athens. Timon’s house

Enter Flavius and two other servants

1 Servant: “Master steward, where is our master? Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining?”

Flavius: “Alack my fellows, what shall I say to you? I am as poor as you.”

1 Servant: “Such a house broke. So noble a master fallen. All gone and not one friend to take his fortune by the arm and go along with him?”

2 Servant: “So his familiars to his buried fortunes slink all away; leave their false vows with him, like empty purses picked; and his poor self, a dedicated beggar to the air, with his disease of shunned poverty, walks, like contempt, alone.”

Enter other servants

Flavius: “All broken implements of a ruined house

2 Servant: “Yet I see by our faces we are still fellows, serving alike in sorrow.”

Flavius: “Good fellows, all. The latest of my wealth I’ll share amongst you. Let’s each take some. We have seen better days. Wherever we shall meet, for Timon’s sake, let’s yet be fellows. Thus part we rich in sorrows, parting poor.

They each exit their own way

Flavius: “O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, since riches point to misery and contempt? Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live but in a dream of friendship? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, undone by goodness! Strange it is when man’s worst sin is he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again. My dearest lord – blest to be most accurst, rich only to be wretched – thy great fortunes are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! He’s flung in rage from this ungrateful seat of monstrous friends. I’ll follow and enquire him out. I’ll ever serve his mind with my best will; while I have gold, I’ll be his steward still.”

Summary and Analysis

The servants remain behind in Timon’s house, wondering how such a thing could have befallen their household. They are Timon’s loyal friends, after all. They determine to look after one another, in his name. Flavius reflects on how Timon’s one time good fortune brought about his worst suffering. He is going to seek out Timon and ‘be his steward still’. Flavius no doubt learned his generosity of spirit from Timon and shares his bit of money with all of his fellow servants, despite how such generosity has utterly crushed his master. It would seem that giving to poor servants is different than giving to rich lords. 

Act IV

Scene iii

The woods near the sea-shore before Timon’s cave

Enter Timon

Timon: “O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth rotten humidity. Infect the air! There’s nothing level in our cursed natures but direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred all feasts, societies, and throngs of men! Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots. (Timon digs) Who seeks for better, sauce his palate with operant poison. What is here? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? Ha, you gods! Why this? This yellow slave will knit and break religious, lesser the accursed, make leprosy adored, place thieves and give them title with senators on the bench. This is it that makes the widow wed again. Come, damed earth, thou common whore of mankind. Yet, I’ll bury thee. (He keeps some of the gold)

Enter Alcibiades in warlike manner with mistresses Phrynia and Yimandra

Alcibiades: “What are thou there? Speak.”

Timon: “A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart for showing me again the eyes of man!”

Alcibiades: “What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee who art thyself a man?”

Timon: “I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind. For thy part, I do wish thou were a dog, that I might love thee something.”

Alcibiades: “I know thee well; but in thy fortunes am unlearned and strange.”

Timon: “I know thee too. And more than that I know thee I not desire to know. With man’s blood paint the ground. Religious canons and civil laws are cruel. This fell whore of thine has in her more destruction than thy sword.”

Phrynia: “Thy lips rot off!”

Timon: “I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns to thine own life again.”

Alcibiades: “How came the noble Timon to this change?”

Timon: “As the moon does, by wanting light to give. But then renew I could not, like the moon; there were no suns to borrow of.”

Alcibiades: “Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?”

Timon: “None but to maintain my opinion.”

Alcibiades: “What is it, Timon?”

Timon: “Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou will not promise, the gods plague thee. If thou does perform, confound thee.”

Alcibiades: “I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.”

Timon: “Thou saw them when I had prosperity.”

Alcibiades: “I see them now. Then was a blessed time.”

Timon: “As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.”

Timandra: “Is this the Athenian minion whom the world voiced so regardfully?”

Timon: “Art thou Timandra?”

Timandra: “Yes.”

Timon: “Be a whore still; they love thee not who use thee. Give them disease.”

Timandra: “Hang thee, monster!”

Alcibiades: “Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits are drowned and lost in his calamities. I have little gold of late, brave Timon. I have heard and grieved how cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, forgetting thy great deeds, but for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them.”

Timon: “I prithee, beat thy drum and get thee gone.”

Alcibiades: “I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.”

Timon: “How does thou pity him whom thou does trouble? I had rather be alone.”

Alcibiades: “Why, fare thee well: here is some gold for thee.”

Timon: “Keep it; I cannot eat it.”

Alcibiades: “When I have laid proud Athens on a heap -“

Timon: “War thou against Athens?”

Alcibiades: “Ay, Timon, and have cause.”

Timon: “The gods confound them all in thy conquest; and thee after, when thou has conquered! Go on, here’s gold. Be as a planetary plague. Let not thy sword skip one. Pity not honoured age for his white beard: he is a usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron: it is her habit only that is honest; herself’s a bawd. Let not the virgin’s cheek make soft thy trenchant sword. Spare not the babe. Think it a bastard whom the oracle has doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, and mince it sans remorse. Put armour on thy ears and eyes, whose yells of mothers, maids or babes, nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, shall pierce a jot. There’s gold to pay thy soldiers, make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.”

Alcibiades: “Has thou gold yet? I’ll take the gold thou gives me, not thy counsel.”

Phrynia and Timandra: “Give us some gold, good Timon. Has thou more?”

Timon: “Enough to make a whore forswear her trade. Hold up, you sluts, you are not oathable, although I know you’ll swear, terribly swear. Spare your oaths. Be whores still; and he whose pious breath seeks to convert you, be strong whores, allure him, burn him up. Be quite contrary! And thatch your poor tin roofs with burdens of the dead. Whore still.”

Phrynia and Timandra: “Well, more gold. Believe it that we’ll do anything for gold.”

Timon: “Consumptions sow in hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins. Crack the lawyer’s voice that he may never more false title plead. Make curled pated ruffians bald and let the unscarred braggarts of the war derive some pain from you. Plague all, that your activity may defeat and quell the source of all erections. There’s more gold. Do you damn others, and let this damn you. And ditches grave you all!”

Phrynia and Timandra: “More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.”

Timon: “More whoring and mischief first.”

Alcibiades: “Strike up the drum toward Athens. Farewell, Timon. If I thrive well, I’ll visit thee again.”

Timon: “If I hope well, I’ll never see thee more.”

Alcibiades: “I never did thee harm.”

Timon: “Yes, thou spoke well of me.”

Alcibiades: “Calls thou that harm?”

Timon: “Man daily find it. Get thee away, and take thy beagles with thee.”

Alcibiades: “We but offend him.”

Exit Alcibiades and his whores

Timon: “Common mother, thou whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast teams and feeds all, dry up thy fertile and conceptious womb, and let it no more bring out ungrateful man.”

Enter Apemantus

Timon: “More man? Plague, plague!”

Apemantus: “I was directed hither. Men report thou does affect my manners and does use them.”

Timon: “Tis then because thou does not keep a dog, whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee!”

Apemantus: “This is in thee a nature but infected, a poor unmanly melancholy sprung from change of fortune. Why this spade? This place? The slave-like habit and these looks of care? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, hug their diseased perfumes and have forgotten that ever Timon was. Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive by that which has undone thee. Thou gave thine ears to knaves and all approachers. Tis most just that thou turn rascal. Do not assume my likeness.”

Timon: “Were I like thee, I’d throw away myself.”

Apemantus: “Thou has cast away thyself, being like thyself; a madman so long and now a fool.”

Timon: “A fool of thee. Depart.”

Apemntus: “I love thee better now then ever I did.”

Timon: “I hate thee worse.”

Apemantus: “Why?”

Timon: “Thy flatters misery.”

Alcibiades: “I flatter not.”

Timon: “Why does thou seek me out?”

Apemantus: “To vex thee.”

Timon: “Always a villain’s office, or a fool’s. Does please thyself in it?”

Apemantus: “Ay.”

Timon: “What, a knave too?”

Apemantus: “If thou did put this sour-cold habit on to castigate thy pride, t’were well; but thou did it enforcedly. Thou should desire to die, being miserable.”

Timon: “Thou art a slave whom fortune’s tender arm with favour never clasped, but bred a dog. Why should thou hate men? They never flattered thee. Hence, be gone. If thou had not been born the worst of men, thou had been a knave and a flatterer.”

Apemantus: “Art thou proud yet?”

Timon: “Ay, that I am not thee. Get thee gone. That the whole life of Athens were in this (eats a root) thus would I eat it.”

Apemantus: “Here, I will mend thy feast.” (offers Timon food)

Timon: “First mend my company: take away thyself.”

Apemantus: “So I shall mend my own by the lack of thine.”

Timon: “Tis not well mended so; it is but botched. If not, I would it were.”

Apemanus: “The middle of humanity thou never knew, but the extremity of both ends. When thou was in thy gilt and perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou art despised for the contrary. What man did thou ever know unthrifty that was beloved after his means?”

Timon: “What would thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?”

Apemantus: “Give it to the beasts, to be rid of the men.”

Timon: “Would thou remain a beast with the beasts?”

Apemantus: “Ay, Timon.”

Timon: “A beastly ambition. If thou were the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou were the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if you were the fox, the lion would suspect thee when thou were accused by the ass; if thou were the ass, thy dullness would torment thee; and still thou lived but as a breakfast for the wolf; if thou were the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee. Were thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee; were thou a bear, thou would be killed by the horse; were thou the horse, thou would be seized by the leopard. What beast could thou be that was not subject to a beast? And what a beast thou art already, thy sees not thy loss in transformation.”

Apemantus: “The commonwealth of Athens has become a forest of beasts.”

Timon: “How has the ass broke the wall, that thou are out of the city?”

Apemantus: “Yonder comes a poet and a painter. The plague of company light upon thee! When I know not what else to do, I’ll see thee again.”

Timon: “When there is nothing living but thee, thou shall be welcome. I had rather be a beggar’s dog than Apemantus.”

Apemantus: “Thou are the cap of all the fools alive.”

Timon: “Would thou were clean enough to spit upon.”

Apemantus: “A plague on thee! Thou are too bad to curse.”

Timon: “All villains that do stand by thee are pure.”

Apemantus: “There is no leprosy but what thou speaks.”

Timon: “If I name thee, I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.”

Apemantus: “I would my tongue could rot them off!”

Timon: “Away thou issue of a mangy dog! Choler does kill me that thou art alive.”

Apemantus: “Would thou would burst!”

Timon: “Away, thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee.”

Timon throws a stone at him.

Apemantus: “Beast!

Timon: “Slave!”

Apemantus: “Toad!”

Timon: “Rogue, rogue, rogue! I am sick of this false world, and will live nought but even the mere necessities upon it. Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave. Lie where the foam of the sea may beat thy gravestone daily; make thy epitaph; that death in me at others’ lives may laugh. (looks at the gold) O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce between natural son and sire! Thou bright defiler of Hymen’s purest bed! Thou valiant Mars! Thou ever fresh, loved and delicate wooer! Thou visible god, who speaks with every tongue to every purpose! Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue set them into confounding odds, that beasts may have the world in empire!”

Apemantus: “Would t’were so! But not till I am dead. I’ll say thou has gold. Thou will be thronged to shortly. Live and love thy misery!”

Timon: “Live long so, and so die. I am quit.”

Exit Apemantus

Timon: “More things like men. Eat, Timon, and abhor them.”

Enter bandits

1 Bandit: “Where should he have this gold? The mere want of gold and the falling from of his friends drove him into this melancholy.”

2 Bandit: “It is noised he has a mass of treasure.”

1 Bandit: “He bears it not about him; Tis hid.”

3 Bandit: “Let us make the assay upon him.”

1 Bandit: “Save thee, Timon!”

Timon: “Now, thieves?”

1 Bandit: “Soldiers, not thieves. We are not thieves but men who much do want.”

Timon: “Why should you want? Behold, the earth has roots; within this mile break forth a hundred springs; nature on each bush lays her full mess before you. Want? Why want?”

1 Bandit; “We cannot live on grass, berries and water, as beast and birds and fish.”

Timon: “Nor on the beasts themselves; you must eat men. Rascal thieves, here is gold. Take wealth and lives together; do villainy, do. I’ll example you of thievery: the sun’s a thief and robs the vast sea; the moon’s an arrant thief, her pale fire she snatches from the sun; the sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves the moon into salt tears; the earth’s a thief, that feeds and breeds by a composure stolen from general excrement. Each thing’s a thief. Love not yourselves; away, rob one another. There’s more gold. Cut throats. All who you meet are thieves. To Athens go, break open shops; nothing you can steal but thieves do lose it. Steal not less for this I give you; let gold confound you howsoever! Amen.

3 Bandit: “He has almost charmed me from my profession by persuading me to it.”

1 Bandit: “Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us.”

2 Bandit: “I’ll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.”

Exit bandits

Enter Flavius

Flavius: “O you gods! Is yonder despised and ruinous man my lord? Full of dear and failing? O monument and wonder of good deeds evil bestowed! What an alteration of honour has desperate want made! What viler thing upon the earth than friends, who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! How rarely does it meet with this time’s guise, when man was wished to love his enemies! I will present my honest grief unto him, and as my lord still serve him with my life. My dearest master!”

Timon: “Away! What art thou?”

Flavius: “Have you forgotten me, sir?”

Timon: “I have forgotten all men; then if thou grant thou art a man, I have forgotten thee.”

Flacius: An honest poor servant of yours.”

Timon: “Then I know thee not. I never had an honest man about me. All I kept were knaves, to serve meat to villains.”

Flavius: “The gods are witness, never did a poor steward wear a truer grief for his undone lord than mine eyes for you.”

Timon: “What, does thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee because thou art a woman and disclaims flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give but thorough lust and laughter. Pity is sleeping. Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!”

Flavius:”I beg of you to know me, my good lord, to accept my grief and to entertain me as your steward still.”

Timon: “Had I a steward so true, so just? It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. Let me behold thy face. Forgive my general rashness, you perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim one honest man – mistake me not, but one; no more, I pray – and he’s a steward. But all, save thee, I fell with curses. Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; for by oppressing and betraying me thou might have sooner gotten another service. For many so arrive at second masters upon their first lord’s neck. But tell me true, is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, expecting in return twenty to one?”

Flavius: “No, my most worthy master, in whose breast doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late! You should have feared false times when you did feast. That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, duty and zeal to your unmatched mind. Any benefit that points to me, I’d exchange for this one wish, that you had power and wealth to requite me by making rich yourself.”

Timon: “Look thee, tis so! Thou singly honest man, here, take. The gods, out of my misery, have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, but thus conditioned: thou shall hate all, curse all, show charity to none, but let the famished flesh slide from the bone ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs what thou denies men; let prisons swallow them, debts wither them to nothing, and may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so farewell and thrive.”

Flavius: “O, let me stay and comfort you, my master.”

Timon: “If thou hates curses, stay not: fly while thou are blest and free, never see thou man, and let me never see thee.”

Summary and Analysis

Timon emerges from his cave cursing and raging about flatterers and wishing that everything human would come to destruction. ‘There is nothing in our cursed nature but direct villainy.’ While digging for roots he comes upon gold and goes off on a tangent about the terrible qualities of wealth. He has clearly been deeply traumatized in being rejected by his so called friends and he takes it out on the entire species of mankind. Alcibiades arrives with two prostitutes and Timon wants nothing to do with them, only encouraging the prostitutes to continue whoring and to spread diseases. He rejects any help Alcibiades offers and insists he leave. But when Alcibiades mentions that he plans on sacking Athens, Timon is suddenly interested, telling Alcibiades to spare no one, not even ‘the honourably aged’ or ‘the babes’. Timon says he hopes never to see Alcibiades again, but before he leaves his whores ask Timon for gold. He gives them gold and instructs them to spread plagues and consumption through their whoring and ‘quell the source of all erections’. Alcibiades and the prostitutes leave and Apemantus arrives. Timon curses him but Apemantus notes that Titus has been led to this distraction by the flattering lords, who abandoned him just as soon as his wealth evaporated. Timon tells him to leave but Apemantus says he loves Timon more than ever before. Timon rails against Apemantus and the two trade insult after insult until Timon throws a rock at him and he finally leaves. Bandits and thieves arrive next, intent on the gold they have heard that he has. He offers them gold, provided they do villainy and cut throats. He especially urges them to Athens, in order that they wreak havoc and destruction there. ‘To Athens go!’ Finally, Timon is visited by Flavius, his former loyal and dedicated servant. Timon assumes not to know him, as he never knew anyone loyal. Seeing the state Timon is in causes Flavius to weep, which softens Timon. When Flavius offers money for his former master, it causes Timon to admit that there is, in fact, one good person in this entire world. Flavius offers to stay with Titus and look after him out here in the wilderness but Titus gives him gold and tells him to leave. Titus has left Athens in order to be alone, but once out in the wilderness he receives one visitor after another. After finding gold he offers it to anyone who can help bring down Athens. Alcibiades gets some because he plans to attack Athens and the prostitutes and bandits do since they can speed diseases and wreck havoc among the population. When Alcibiades arrived Timon referred to himself as Misanthropos and he certainly has become just that. He went from one extreme to another in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately for him, there will be no turning back.

Act V (4 scenes)

Scene i

The woods before Timon’s cave.

Enter poet and painter

Poet: “What’s to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he is so full of gold?”

Painter: “Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Yinandra had gold from him. He likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.”

Poet: “Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends?”

Painter: “Nothing else. You shall see him in Athens again. Therefore tis not amiss we tender our loves to him in this supposed distress of his; it will show honesty in us, and is very likely to load our purposes.”

Poet: “What have you now to present to him?”

Painter: “Nothing at this time but my visitation. Only I will promise him an excellent piece.”

Poet: “I must serve him so, too, and tell him of an intent that is coming toward him.”

Enter Timon from his cave

Timon: (aside) “Excellent workman! Thou cannot paint a man so bad as is thyself.”

Poet: “Hail, worthy Timon!”

Painter: “Our late noble master!”

Timon: “Have I once lived to see two honest men?”

Poet: “Sir, having often of your open bounty tasted, hearing you were returned, your friends fallen off, I am rapt and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this ingratitude with any size of words.”

Painter: “He and myself have travailed in the great shower of your gifts.”

Timon: “Ay, you are honest men.”

Painter: “We are hither come to offer you our service.”

Timon: “Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? Can you eat roots and drink cold water – No? You have heard that I have gold; I am sure you have. Speak truth; you are honest men.”

Painter: “So it is said, my noble lord, but therefore came not my friend nor I.”

Timon: “Good honest men! But for all of this, my honest-natured friends, I must needs say you have a little fault.”

Both: “Beseech your honour to make it known to us.”

Timon: “You’ll take it ill.”

Both: “Most thankfully, my lord.”

Timon: “Will you indeed?”

Both: “Doubt it not, my lord.”

Timon: “There’s never a one of you but trusts a knave that mightily deceives you.”

Both: “Do we, my lord?”

Timon: “Ay, and you hear him, see him, love him, feed him; yet remain assured that he’s a made up villain.”

Pinter: “I know not such, my lord.”

Poet: “Nor I.”

Timon: “Look you, I love you well; I’ll give you gold, rid me these villains from you companies. Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught, confound them by some course, and come to me, I’ll give you gold enough.”

Both: “Name them, my lord; let’s know them.”

Timon: “You that way, and you this. Each man apart. Yet an arch-villain keeps each company. Hence, pack! There’s gold. You came for gold, you slaves. Out, rascal dogs! (beats and drives them out)

Enter Flavius and two senators.

Flacius: “It is vain that you would speak with Timon for he is set only to himself that nothing but himself which looks like man is friendly with him.”

1 Senator: “Bring us to his cave. It is our part and promise to the Athenians to speak with Timon.”

2 Senator: “Bring us to him, and chance it as it may.”

Flavius: “Here is his cave. Lord Timon! Timon! Look out and speak to friends. The Athenians by two of their most reverend Senate greet thee. Speak to them, noble Timon.”

Timon comes out of his cave

Timon: “Thou sun that comfort, burn. Speak and be hanged! For each true word a blister, and each false be as a cauterizing to the roof of the tongue.”

2 Senator: “The Senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.”

Timon: “I thank them, and would send them back the plague, could I but catch it for them.”

1 Senator: “The Senators with one consent of love entreat thee back to Athens. Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth as shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs and write in thee the figures of their love, ever to read them thine.”

Timon: “Lend me a fool’s heart and a woman’s eyes and I’ll beweep these comforts, worthy Senators.”

1 Senator: “Therefore, so please thee to return with us, and of our Athens to take the captainship, allowed with absolute power, and live with authority. So soon we shall drive back Alcibiades into the wilds, who, like a boar too savage, does root up his country’s peace.”

2 Senator: “And shakes his threatening sword against the walls of Athens.”

Timon: “Therefore, sir, if Alcibiades kills my countrymen, let Alcibiades know this of Timon, that Timon cares not. So I leave you to the protection of the prosperous gods, as thieves to keepers.”

Flavius: “Stay not; all’s in vain.”

Timon: “Why, I am writing my epitaph. It will be seen tomorrow. My long sickness of health and living now begin to mend Go, be Alcibiades your plague, and you his.”

1 Senator: “We speak in vain.”

Timon: “Commend me to my countrymen and tell them that to see their griefs and pangs of love in life’s uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.”

1 Senator: “These words become your lips. I like this well.”

Timon: “I have a tree that invites me to cut down, and shortly must I fell it. Tell my friends, tell Athens, to stop affliction, let him take his haste, come hither, ere my tree has felt the axe, and hang himself. I pray you do my greeting. Come not to me again. Let my gravestone be your oracle. What is amiss, let plague and infection mend!”

2 Senator: “Our hope in him is dad. Let us return.”

Summary and Analysis

Timon has had many visitors and aside from Flavius, they all get the same treatment essentially. When the painter and the poet arrived you had to expect what was in store for them. Likewise with the wealthy Senators. He toys with both sets of visitors, but wishes the same plagues and afflictions with the same demand that they not ever return. Its tough being a hermit with all of the traffic Timon receives.

Act V

Scene ii

Before he walls of Athens

Enter two senators with a messenger.

Messenger: “Alcibiades’ expedition promises present approach.”

2 Senator: “We stand much in hazard if they bring not Timon.”

3 Senator: “No talk of Timon, nothing of him is expected. Let’s go in and prepare. Ours is the fall, I fear.”

Summary and Analysis

Athens awaits the onslaught of Alcibiades’ army and their only hope appears to be the intervention of Timon, which is not forthcoming.

Act V

Scene iii

The woods, Timon cave and a rough tomb

Enter a soldier, seeking Timon

Soldier: “By all description, this should be the place. Who’s here? Speak! No answer? What is this? Timon is dead. Here does not live a man. Dead, sure; and this his grave. What’s on this tomb I cannot read; the character I’ll take with wax.”

Summary and Analysis

A soldier comes upon what he believes to be the grave of Timon. He cannot read the epitaph but takes an impression of it to show his superiors. Shakespeare does not afford Timon a final speech before his death, which is highly unusual in his plays. Perhaps he felt he had already said all that there is to say. His death occurs off stage, as well, which, again, is exceptional for the main character of a play.

Act V

Scene iv

Before the walls of Athens

Enter Alcibiades

Alcibiades: “Sound to this coward and lascivious town our terrible approach. Till now you have gone on and filled the time with all licentious measure, making your wills the scope of justice; till now, myself, and such as slept within the shadow of your power, have breathed our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush, when crouching marrow cries of itself ‘no more!'”

1 Senator: “Noble and young, when thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, we sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, to wipe out our ingratitude with loves above their quantity.”

2 Senator: “So did we woo transformed Timon to our city’s love by humble message. We were not all unkind, nor all deserve the common stroke of war.”

1 Senator: “All have not offended. On those who have, revenge. Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin, which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall with those who have offended. Like a shepherd approach the fold and cull the infected forth, but kill not altogether.”

2 Senator: “What thou will, thou rather shall enforce it with thy smile then hew to it with thy sword. Throw thy glove, that thou will use the wars as thy redress and not as our confusion.”

Alcibiades: “Then there’s my glove; descend, and open your uncharged ports. Those enemies of Timon’s and mine own, whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, fall, and no more. And, to atone your fears with my more noble meaning, not a man shall offend the dream of regular justice in your city’s bounds, but shall be rendered to your public laws at heaviest answer.”

The Senators open the gates.

Enter Soldier as messenger.

Soldier: “My noble general, Timon is dead; and on his gravestone this inscription.”

Alcibiades reads the eptitaph: “‘Here lies a wretched corpse, of wretched soul bereft; a plague consume you wicked and despicable cowards left! Here lie I, Timon, who alive all living men did hate. Pass by, but pass by and stay not.’ Dead is noble Timon. Make war breed peace, make peace stint war. Let our drums strike.”

Summary and Analysis

Alcibiades and his forces approach Athens with the intention of wreaking a terrible vengeance- filled havoc . The Senators make their case that not all deserve to be ransacked. He is welcomed into Athens but is asked not to kill everyone, only those deserving of his wrath. It is agreed that the Senators will turn over all of the offenders and that the rest of Athens will be spared. The soldier who had rubbed the impression of Timon’s epitaph arrives with news that Timon is dead. Alcibiades reads the impression and honours the memory of Timon and enters the city of Athens in peace. Timon had encouraged Alcibiades to destroy everything and everyone in Athens but Alcibiades chooses to distinguish between the deserving and the underserving, sparing the innocent and abiding by the laws of Athens. Timon was a man of extremes. His generosity knew no bounds and once abandoned by his so-called friends neither did his rage against humanity. He died a miserable misanthrop.

Final Thoughts

Timon of Athens is about the rise and fall of a man lacking in insight and clarity. When he was extremely wealthy he lavished affection on everyone around him and was seemingly well loved in return. Apemantus saw through this ‘love’ and declared his admirers mere flatterers. And sure enough, once Timon’s money was gone, so were the flatterers and he felt deceived and abused, turning bitter over his own miscalculation that they once truly loved him. His decision was to condemn all of humanity rather than own up to his own errors about how generosity breeds love. Was Timon a good man or merely a naive and foolish one? He demonstrated poor judgement on each extreme of the spectrum, believing he was genuinely loved for his generosity and then condemning all of the human race for the apparent slight when he could not find anyone to help spare him his financial ruin, while they continued to relish his gifts and gold. But good and wise people surrounded him. Apemantus saw it coming all along but Timon would not listen to him. Flavius, his servant, was loyal to the very end and Alcibiades tried to befriend Timon, who, by that time, was far too gone to connect to anyone. He trusted the wrong people and then condemned the entire human race because of his own blindness to these Athenian flatterers. Not good judgement on Timon’s part. If there are any heroes in this play they are perhaps the three aforementioned characters who saw the truth (Apemantus), remained loyal (Flavius) and agreed not to destroy all of Athens due to the offence of a handful of men (Alcibiades). Shakespeare sourced his material for Timon of Athens from two different Greek works: Plutarch’s ‘Lives’ and a satire by Lucian, entitled ‘Timon the Misanthrope’. As far as we can tell Timon was never performed in Shakespeare’s lifetime and the first definitive staging is not until 1851! Even today, this is not a play which is often produced and remains on the fringes of Shakespeare’s works. Per usual, Youtube has several well performed versions available with many clips and some good analysis.

Cymbeline

Introduction

The most awkward of the late romances, Cymbeline is a very unique work. It has the most complex and excessively busy plot of any Shakespeare play and is disparaged by many (George Bernard Shaw referred to it as stagey trash of the lowest order, vulgar, offensive and exasperating beyond all tolerance) and yet lauded by others (Of all the works in world literature, Lord Tennyson had a copy of it buried with him). It both frustrates and enchants. Imogen is certainly one of the Bard’s finest female leads but there is really no one else in the play to match her. Neither Posthumus, her husband, who really is quite dull and foolish, nor the two comic villains, Iachimo and Cloten, are anywhere near as interesting or as well developed as Imogen. This is also true of the tiresome King and his wicked Queen, causing many critics to conclude that Imogen deserves a better play. Cymbeline himself was an actual English king, right around the time of Jesus, during the reign of Augustus. The Romans still expect tribute from England, but when Cymbeline resists, the two kingdoms go to war. This play is therefore part history, at times quite tragic and ultimately triumphantly comedic. In other words it is another of Shakespeare’s late historic / tragic / comic romances, albeit less applauded than The Winter’s Tale, Pericles and The Tempest.

The king’s daughter, Imogen, has chosen a husband, Posthumus, against the will of her father, which gets Posthumus banished, since the wicked queen very much wants her son the incompetent Cloten, (stepson to the king) to marry Imogen, so that he can inherit the throne. In Italy the exiled Posthumus boasts of Imogen’s loyalty to him and an Italian named Iachimo bets that he can seduce her. He never can but makes it seem as though he has and Posthumus is devastated and through too many misadventures to account for here, but which include ghosts, astrologists, a headless villain, poison, sleeping potions, war, disguises, ‘supposed deaths’ and kidnapped princes, Imogen and Posthumus are ultimately reunited in the most complex of all of Shakespeare’s act five revelations. Most of the characters in the play lack depth and Cymbeline himself is neither well developed or worthy of much analysis. Posthumus is actually a quite unlikeable partner to Imogen, and the all too many subplots are hopelessly disjointed and seemingly without centre, until act five. On the other hand, this is Imogen’s play, and she is wonderful, one can suppose that the three villainous characters (Iachimo, Cloten and the Queen) are at least fun to hate, there is adventure a plenty in the busy, busy plot and act five has the power to fully astonish, as it pulls together so many errant narratives to ultimately arrive at a cohesive series of reconciliations and just rewards. Uneven and at times frustrating? Yes. Boring? Never.

Act I (6 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. The gardens of Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter two gentlemen

1 Gentleman: “You do not meet a man but frowns.”

2 Gentleman: “But what’s the matter?”

1 Gentleman: “His daughter, and heir of the kingdom, whom he purposed to his wife’s sole son, has referred herself unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded; her husband banished; she imprisoned. All is outward sorrow, though I think the king be touched at the very heart. He that has missed the princess is a thing too bad for bad report; and he that has her – I mean that married her – alack, good man! And therefore banished. I do not think so fair an outward and such stuff within endows a man but he.”

2 Gentleman: “You speak him fair.”

1 Gentleman: “His father joined his honour against the Romans and served with glory and admired success, and so gained the name Leonatus; besides this gentleman in question, he had two other sons, who died with their swords in hand, for which their father took such sorrow that he quit being, and his gentle lady deceased just as our gentleman was born. The king took the baby to his protection, called him Posthumus Leonatus, bred him and made him of his bed-chamber and put him to all the learning, which he took, as we do air, fast as twas ministered. He lived in court, most praised and most loved.”

2 Gentleman: “Pray you tell me, is she the sole child to the king?”

1 Gentleman: “His only child. He had two sons, who from their nursery were stolen; and to this hour no guess in knowledge which way they went.”

2 Gentleman: “How long is this ago?”

1 Gentleman: “Some twenty years.”

1 Gentleman: “Howsoever tis strange, yet is it true, sir. Here comes the gentleman, the Queen and the Princess.”

Exit the gentlemen

Enter the Queen, Posthumus and Imogen (The Princess)

Queen: “Be assured you shall not find me, daughter, after the slander of most stepmothers, evil-eyed unto you. You are my prisoner, but your jailer shall deliver you the keys that lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, so soon as I can win the offended king, I will be your advocate.”

Posthumus: “Please your Highness, I will from hence today.”

Queen: “You know the peril.”

Exit Queen

Imogen: “Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing what his rage can do on me. You must be gone; and I shall here abide the hourly shot of angry eyes, not comforted to live but that there is this jewel in the world that I may see again.”

Posthumus: “My Queen. My mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause to be suspected of more tenderness than does become a man. I will remain the loyalist husband; my residence in Rome thither write, my queen, and with my eyes I’ll drink the words you send. Adieu!”

Imogen: “Stay a little. Look here, love; this diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart; but keep it till you woo another wife, when Imogen is dead.”

Posthumus: “How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have. Remain, remain thou here.” (Posthumus puts on the ring) “For my sake wear this; it is a mantle of love; I’ll place it upon this fairest prisoner.” (Posthumus puts a bracelet on Imogen’s arm)

Imogen: “O the gods! When shall we see again?”

Enter Cymbeline

Posthumus: “Alack, the King!”

Cymbeline: “Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court with thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou art poison to my blood.”

Posthumus: “The gods protect you. I am gone.”

Exit Posthumus

Imogen: “There cannot be a pinch in death more sharp than this.”

Cymbeline: “O disloyal thing, thou heaps a year’s age on me!”

Imogen: “I beseech you, sir, harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath.”

Cymbeline: “Past grace? Obedience?”

Imogen: “Past hope, and in despair.”

Cymbeline: “You might have had the sole son of my queen!”

Imogen: “O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, and did avoid a puttock.”

Cymbeline: “Thou took a beggar, who would have made my throne a seat for baseness. O thy vile one!”

Imogen: “Sir, it is your fault that I have loved Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is a man worthy of any woman.”

Cymbeline: “What, art thou mad?”

Imogen: “Almost, sir. Heaven restore me!”

Enter the Queen

Cymbeline: “Thou foolish thing!” (to the Queen) “They were again together. Away with her, and pen her up. Let her languish.”

Exit the King

Enter Pisanio, servant to Posthumus

Queen: “How now, sir! What news?”

Pisanio: “My lord, your son, drew on my master.”

Queen: “No harm, I trust, is done.”

Pisanio: “There might have been, but that my master rather played than fought, and had no help of anger; and they were parted by gentlemen at hand.”

Queen: “I am very glad of it.”

Imogen: “Your son is my father’s friend; he takes his part to draw upon an exile.” (to Pisanio) “Why came you from your master?”

Pisanio: “On his command. He left these notes of what commands I should be subject to, when it pleased you to employ me.”

Imogen: “About some half-hour hence, pray you speak with me. You shall at least go see my lord abroad. For this time leave me.”

Summary and Analysis

Typical of opening scenes, we learn some background intel right off the bat here from a conversation between two gentlemen about the royal house. We learn that Imogen, the King’s daughter, was expected to marry Cloten, the Queen’s son. However, Imogen went ahead and boldly married Posthumus, an orphaned ward to the King. He was brought up in the court and he and Imogen were always very close and now very much in love. She has no love whatsoever for Cloten. The King is furious and has banished Posthumus and placed his daughter, Imogen, under house arrest. She is the King’s only child, as his two little sons were kidnapped many years ago. These missing sons will become one of the significant subplots of the play. The queen arrives and promises to be kind to Imogen and Posthumus but they see through her completely and vow to remain faithful to one another and exchange tokens as Posthumus prepares for exile. The King arrives and berates his daughter for what she has done. Imogen defends herself and holds her own with her father. Pisanio, Posthumus’ servant, arrives to announce that Cloten drew his sword on Posthumus, who merely played with Cloten, and to inform Imogen that Posthumus has departed and that he, Pisanio, is at her service. Since the plot is complicated this opening scene helps us with the foundation of the story, which will develop in many divergent tangents.

Act I

Scene ii

Britain. A public place.

Enter Cloten and two lords

Cloten: “Have I hurt him?”

2 Lord: (aside) “No, faith; not so much as his patience.”

Cloten: “The villain would not stand me.”

2 Lord: (aside) “No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.”

Cloten: “I would they had not come between us.”

2 Lord: (aside) “So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.”

Cloten: “And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me.”

2 Lord: (aside) “If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.”

1 Lord: “Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.”

2 Lord: (aside) “She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.”

Cloten: “Come, I’ll to my chamber; would there had been some hurt done!”

2 Lord: (aside) “I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.”

Clloten: “Come, let’s go together.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten boasts of what he would have done to Posthumus, had the gentleman not separated them. One of the lords makes fun of him repeatedly and he comes across as a boorish fool and a braggart. By now we have met most of the important characters at court. The Queen is quite menacing and the King has no spine to contradict her. Cloten is every bit as bad as he comes across early on, and Imogen will just get more and more enchanting and beautiful as we proceed. Posthumus comes across very well in the beginning, but his most damning scenes lie just ahead, as the plot thickens.

Act I

Scene iii

Britain. Cymbeline’s Palace.

Enter Imogen and Pisiano

Imogen: “I would thou questioned every sail; if he should write, and I not have it, ’twere a paper lost, as offered mercy is. What was the last that he spoke to thee?”

Pisanio: “It was: his queen, his queen!”

Imogen: “Then waved his handkerchief?”

Pisanio: “And kissed it, madam.”

Imogen: “Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all?”

Pisanio: “No, madam, for so long as he could make me out with his eyes, he did keep to the deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief still waving; how slow his soul sailed on.”

Imogen: “I would have broken my eye-strings but to look on him, till diminution of space had pointed him sharp as my needle. But, good Pisanio, when shall we hear from him?”

Pisanio: “Be assured, madam, with his next vantage.”

Imogen: “I did not take my leave of him, but had most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him how I would think on him at certain hours such thoughts and such; or ere I could give him that parting kiss.”

Enter a lady

Lady: “The Queen, madam, desires your Highness’ company.”

Imogen: “I will attend the Queen.”

Summary an Analysis

Pisanio assures Imogen that Posthumus departed dedicated to her, waving his handkerchief and exclaiming her name. He also assures her that she will hear from him soon. They are then interrupted by a message that she is to attend to the queen. Just as Posthumus and Imogen are separated, Shakespeare makes it clear to us how much in love they really are. The play may bear the name of King Cymbeline but it is truly more about our not quite so royal couple, similar to King Henry IV, which is more focused on Falstaff and Hal than on the King himself.

Act I

Scene iv

Rome. Philario’s house.

Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman and a Spaniard.

Iachimo: “His matter of marrying his king’s daughter; wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own.”

Frenchman: “And then his banishment.”

Iachimo: “But how comes it that he is to sojourn with you? How comes acquaintance?”

Philario: “His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.”

Enter Posthumus

Philario: “Here comes the Briton. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine.”

Frenchman: “Sir, we have known each other in Orleans.”

Posthumus: “Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.”

Frenchman: “Sir, you over-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countrymen and you.”

Posthumus: “By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller.”

Iachimo: “Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?”

Frenchman: “Twas a contention in public, much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified and less attemptable, than any of the rarest ladies in France.”

Iachimo: “That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion is worn out.”

Posthumus: “She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.”

Iachimo: “You must not so far prefer her before ours of Italy.”

Posthumus: “I praised her as I rated her.”

Iachimo:”What do you esteem her at?”

Posthumus: “More than the world enjoys; the gift of the gods.”

Iachimo: “Which the gods have given you?”

Posthumus: “Which by their graces I will keep.”

Iachimo: “Your ring may be stolen too. So your brace of unprizable estimations; a cunning thief would hazard the winning both of first and last.”

Posthumus: “Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress. I do nothing doubt you have a store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.”

Iachimo: “I dare thereupon pawn my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion, overvalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and to bar your office herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world”

Posthumus: “You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you are worthy of by your attempt.”

Iachimo: “What’s that?”

Posthumus: “A repulse; though your attempt deserves more – a punishment too.”

Philario: “Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.”

Iachimo: “Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on the approbation of what I have spoke!”

Posthumus: “What lady would you choose to assail?”

Iachimo: “Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.”

Posthumus: “I will wage against your gold gold to it. My ring I hold as dear as my finger.”

Iachimo: “I am the master of my speeches , and would undergo what is spoken, I swear.”

Posthumus: “Will you? I shall but lend my diamond until your return. Let there be covenants drawn between us. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.”

Iachimo: “By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour, as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel and my gold are yours.”

Posthumus: “I embrace these conditions; if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy, for she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.”

Iachimo: “Your hand – a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain.”

Posthumus: “Agreed.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus is in exile in Italy where an international group of men are debating the worth of their country’s women. Iachimo, an Italian, claims there is no woman who cannot be seduced. Posthumus takes exception, claiming that his Imogen, back in Britain, is unassailable. Iachimo makes a hefty bet with Posthumus that he could travel to England and seduce Imogen. Posthumus foolishly accepts the bet. This scene introduces Iachimo, a character who, villain-like, will advance the plot considerably and wreaking havoc between our young lovers. He is hardly an Iago, but he will make Posthumus as jealous as Iago did Othello, and de-rail our love story for much of its tenure.

Act I

Scene v

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Queen and Dr. Cornelius

Queen: “Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?”

Cornelius: “Here they are, madam. But I beseech your Grace, without offence, my conscience bids me ask, wherefore you have commanded of me these most poisonous compounds.”

Queen: “I wonder, doctor, why thou asks me such a question. Have I not been thy pupil long? Has thou not learned me how to make perfumes? Distill? Preserve? Yea, so that our great king himself does woo me often for my confections? Having thus far proceeded, unless thou thinks me devilish, I will try the force of thy compounds on such creatures as we count not worth the hanging – but none human – to try the vigour of them.”

Cornelius: “Your Highness shall from this practice but make hard your heart.”

Queen: “O, content thee.”

Cornelius: (aside) “I do suspect you, madam; but you shall do no harm. I do not like her. She does think she has strange lingering poisons. I do know her spirit and will not trust her malice with a drug of such a damned nature. Those she has will stupefy and dull the senses awhile, which first perchance she’ll prove on cats and dogs, then afterward up higher.; but there is no danger in what show of death it makes. She is fooled with a most false effect; and I the truer so to be false with her.”

Queen: “No further service, doctor, until I send for thee.”

Cornelius: “I humbly take my leave.” (exit)

Enter Pisanio

Queen: (aside) “Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him will I first work. He is for his master, and an enemy to my son.” – (to PIsanio) “How now, Pisanio? Weeps she still, sayest thou? Does thou think in time she will not quench, and let instructions enter where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shall bring me word she loves my son, I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art as great as thy master; greater, for his fortunes all lie speechless, and his name is at a last gasp. Return he cannot, nor continue where he is.” (The Queen drops the box of poison. Pisanio takes it up.). “Thou takes up thou knows not what. It is a thing I made, which has the King five times redeemed from death. Nay, I prithee take it. It is an earnest of a further good I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how the case stands with her. Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words.” (aside) “A sly and constant knave. I have given him that which, if he takes, shall quite unpeople him.”

Pisanio: “But when to my good lord I prove untrue I’ll choke myself – there’s all I’ll do for you.”

Summary and Analysis

The Queen has ordered her court doctor, Cornelius, to prepare a deadly potion, which she claims is not intended for humans. Cornelius, suspecting otherwise, actually just gives her a sleeping concoction that will render the consumer death-like but ultimately unharmed. True to her wicked nature she then admits to us that the potion is intended for Pisanio himself, so that there will remain no strong advocate for Posthumus or Imogen. We may notice familiar plot patterns from earlier Shakespeare works. This ‘sleeping’ potion harkens back to Romeo and Juliet and the father / daughter relationship between Cymbeline and Imogen reminds us of King Lear and his breech with dear Cordilia, while how Iachimo affects Posthumus suggests what Iago did to Othello. Even the cross-dressing, which is to come, brings to mind the earlier classic comedies, such as Twelfth Night and As You Like It. Shakespeare experiments with many different styles and motifs in this later play.

Act I

Scene vi

Britain. The palace.

Enter Imogen

Imogen: (aside) “A father cruel and a step-dame false; a foolish suitor to a wedded lady, who has her husband banished. O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief.”

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo

Pisanio: “Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome comes from my lord with letters.”

Imogen: “Thanks, good sir. You are kindly welcome.”

Iachimo: (aside) “All of her that is most rich! If she be furnished with a mind so rare I have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!”

Imogen: (reads) “‘He is one of the noblest, whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied.’ You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I have words to bid you.”

Iachimo: “Thanks, fairest lady.”

Imogen: “Continues well my lord?”

Iachimo: “Well, madam.”

Imogen: “Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.”

Iachimo: “Exceeding pleasant. So merry and so gamesome. He is called the British reveller.”

Imogen: “When he was here he did incline to sadness and often times not knowing why.”

Iachimo: “I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman companion of his, who much seems to love a Gallian girl at home, while your lord laughs to think that man – who knows by history, report, or his own proof what woman is, yea, what she cannot choose but must be – will languish for assured bondage.”

Imogen: “Will my lord say so?”

Iachimo: “Ay, madam, with laughter. It is a recreation to hear him mock the Frenchman. But heaven knows some men are much to blame.”

Imogen: “Not he, I hope.”

Iachimo: “Not he, but yet heaven’s bounty toward him might be used more thankfully. I am bound to pity, too.”

Imogen: “Who do you pity, sir? Am I one? I pray you, sir. Why do you pity me? You do seem to know something of me, or what concerns me. My lord, I fear, has forgotten Britain.”

Iachimo: “And himself.”

Imogen: “Let me hear no more.”

Iachimo: “O, dear soul, your cause does strike my heart with pity that does make me sick! A lady so fair would make the greatest king double. Be revenged; or she who bore you was no queen.”

Imogen: “Revenged? How should I be revenged?”

Iachimo: “Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, and will continue fast to your affection. Let me my service tender on your lips.”

Imogen: “Away! I do condemn my ears that have so long attended thee. Thou wrongs a gentleman who is as far from thy report as thy from honour; and solicits her a lady who disdains thee and the devil alike. The king, my father, shall be made acquainted of thy assault.”

Iachimo: “O happy Leonatus! I may say the credit that thy lady has of thee deserves thy trust. Blessed live you long, a lady to the worthiest sir that ever country called his! And you his mistress, only for the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoken this to know if your affiance were deeply rooted.”

Imogen: “You make amends.”

Iachimo: “He sits among men like a descended god. Be not angry, most mighty princess, that I have adventured to try your taking of a false report, which has honoured with confirmation your great judgement in the election of a sir so rare. The love I bare him made me to fan you thus. I pray your pardon.”

Imogen: “All’s well, sir.”

Iachimo: “My humble thanks. I had almost forgot to entreat your Grace, but in a small request, for it concerns your lord.”

Imogen: “Pray, what is it?”

Iachimo: “Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord – the best feature of our wing – have mingled sums to buy a present for the Emperor. Tis a plate of rare device, and jewels of rich and exquisite form, their values great. May it please you to take them in protection?”

Imogen: “Willingly, and pawn my honour for their safety. Since my lord has interest in them , I will keep them in my bedchamber.”

Iachimo: “They are in a trunk, attended by my men. I will make bold to send them to you only for this night. I must aboard tomorrow.”

Imogen: “O, no, no.”

Iachimo: “Yes, I beseech you; from Gallia I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise to see your Grace.”

Imogen: “I thank you for your pains, but not away tomorrow!”

Iachimo: “O, I must, madam. Therefore I will beseech you to greet your lord with writing. Do it tonight.”

Imogen: “I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept. You’re very welcome.”

Summary and Analysis

Iachimo arrives in Britain with the sole intention of seducing Imogen. He speaks disparagingly of Posthumus’ fidelity in Italy and suggests that Imogen get revenge by sleeping with him. When she reacts violently to Iachimo, he claims he was just testing her loyalty and now speaks glowingly of Posthumus. His next tactic is to trick Imogen into receiving a trunk that he claims he and others, including Posthumus, have filled with treasures intended for the Emperor. Imogen agrees to take the trunk into her room for the night. In two more scenes we will see what nefarious intentions he has in mind for that trunk. Iachimo is a soft villain, compared to Iago, who is deadlier in his intentions. Iachimo has a wonderful time devising his villainy and is more a pest than the full blown Shakespearean villains, such as Edmund, Ricard III, Aaron the Moor or Iago. Nonetheless, this pest is about to complicate the plot considerably.

Act II (5 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cloten and his two lords.

Cloten: “A pox on it! I had rather not be so noble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen, my mother.”

2 Lord: “Is it not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to?”

Cloten: “No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.”

1 Lord: “Did you hear of a stranger who has come to court tonight?”

Cloten: “A stranger, and I don’t know of it?”

1 Lord: “There is an Italian come and, tis thought, one of Postumus’ friends.”

Cloten: “Posthumus? A banished rascal; and he’s another, whosoever he be. Come, I’ll go see this Italian. What I have lost today at bowls I’ll win tonight of him.”

Exit Cloten and 1 Lord

2 Lord: (aside) “That such a crafty devil as is his mother should yield the world this ass! A woman who bears all down with her brain; and this her son cannot take two from twenty and leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, thou divine Imogen, what thou endures, between a father by thy step-dame governed, a mother hourly coining plots, a wooer more hateful than the foul expulsion is of thy dear husband. The heavens hold firm the walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaken that temple, thy fair mind, that thou may stand to enjoy thy banished lord and this great land.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten is displaying his foolish ignorance when told that there is an Italian visitor at court who is a friend to Posthumus. He naturally heads to see him immediately, no doubt with mischief in mind. Once he departs the lord reflects on poor Imogen’s plight, with her hen pecked father, evil step-mother, pathetic wooer and banished husband. And things are about to get stranger still.

Act II

Scene ii

Britain. Imogen’s bedchamber. A trunk in one corner.

Enter Imogen and her lady

Imogen: “What hour is it?”

Lady: “Almost midnight, madam.”

Imogen: “I have read three hours then. My eyes are weak. To bed. Sleep has seized me wholly. (exit lady) To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night, guard me.”

Imogen falls asleep. Iachimo emerges from the trunk.

Iachimo: “How bravely thou becomes thy bed! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Tis her breathing that perfumes the chamber thus. But my design to note the chamber I will write down: such and such pictures; there the window; such the adornment of her bed. But, some natural notes about her body would testify to enrich my inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! Come off, come off. (he removes her bracelet) Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, as strongly as the conscience does within, to the madding of her lord. On her left breast, a mole. Here’s a voucher stronger than ever law could make; this secret will force him to think I have picked the lock and taken the treasure of her honour. I have enough. To the trunk again.”

Summary and Analysis

This is a pivotal scene wherein Iachimo emerges from his trunk in order to spy on Imogen’s bedchamber and her body, so as to report his feigned conquest to Postumus, along with presenting to him the very bracelet that he had given her. Earlier, Imogen would not believe any of Iachimo’s false reports about Posthumus. Unfortunately, Posthumus will take for truth Iachimo’s claim of ravishing Imogen, which will send the plot, at least temporarily, into the realm of tragedy. 

Act II

Scene iii

Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Cloten and lords

1 Lord: “Your lordship is the most patient man in loss.’

Cloten: “It would make any man cold to lose. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. Its almost morning, is it not? I wish this music would come. I am advised to give her music in the morning; they say it will penetrate. (enter musicians) Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so. We’ll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain and let her consider. (musicians play a song) So, get you gone. If this penetrate I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears.”

Enter Cymbeline and the Queen.

Cloten: “Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother.”

Cymbeline: “Attend you here to the door of our stern daughter? Will she not come forth?”

Cloten: “I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.”

Cymbeline: “The exile of her minion is too new; she has not forgotten him; some more time must wear the print of his remembrance out, and then she’s yours.”

Queen: “You are most bound to the King, who may prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself to orderly solicity and make denials increase your services. So seem as if you were inspired to do those duties which you tender to her.” 

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Sir ambassadors from Rome. The one is Caius Lucius.”

Cymbeline: “A worthy fellow, albeit he comes on angry person now; but that’s no fault of his. Our dear son, when you have given good morning to your mistress, attend the Queen and us; we shall have need to employ you towards this Roman.”

Exit all but Cloten.

Cloten: “If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not, let her lie still and dream. I know her women are about her; what if I line one of her hands? Tis gold which buys admittance; often it does. I will make one of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself.”

Cloten knocks on Imogen’s door.

Lady: “Who’s there that knocks?”

Cloten: “A gentleman.”

Lady: “What’s your lordship’s pleasure?”

Cloten: “Your lady’s person; is she ready?”

Lady: “Ay, to keep to her chamber.”

Cloten: “There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.”

Lady: “What, my good name? The princess!”

Enter Imogen

Cloten: “Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand.”

Imogen: “Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pain for purchasing but pain. The thanks I give is telling you I am poor of thanks, and scarce can spare them.”

Cloten: “Still I swear I love you.”

Imogen: “I regard it not.”

Cloten: “This is no answer.”

Imogen: “I pray you spare me. I shall unfold equal discourtesy to your best kindness. I am much sorry, sir. You put me to forget a lady’s manners; and learn now, that I, who know my heart, do here pronounce, by the very truth of it, I care not for you, and am so near the lack of charity to accuse myself that I hate you, which I had rather you felt.”

Cloten: “You sin against obedience, which you owe your father. For the contract that you pretend with that base wretch is no contract, none.”

Imogen: “Profane fellow! Were thou the son of Jupiter, thou were too base to be his groom.”

Cloten: “The south fog rot him!”

Enter Pisanio

Imogen: “How now, Pisanio! I am spirited with a fool; frighted and angered worse. Go bid my woman search for a jewel that too casually has left my arm. It was thy master’s. Confident I am last night twas on my arm; I kissed it.”

Pisanio: “Twil not be lost.”

Imogen: “I hope so. Go and search.”

Exit Pisanio

Cloten: “You have abused me. I will inform your father.”

Imogen: “Your mother too. So I leave you, sir, to the worst of discontent.”

Cloten: “I’ll be revenged.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten is desperate to win over Imogen and has ordered musicians to play for her in the morning. The King and Queen encourage him to be persistent. The way they see it she simply needs more time to forget Posthumus and then she will surely love Cloten. But Cloten has his own ideas and tries bribing one of Imogen’s ladies into doing some bidding for him. Imogen does come out and we witness a very revealing exchange between them. Cloten declares his love for Imogen, but she rejects him soundly, claiming she is very near to hating him. Cloten reminds her that she is being disobedient to her father, who wants her to love Cloten. Pisanio arrives and Imogen asks him to search for the bracelet she cannot seem to find, which we know was stolen by Iachimo. Poor Imogen, indeed, having to deal with Iachimo, Cloten, her father and her wicked step-mother. all while her beloved husband has been banished. Could it get worse? Oh yeah.

Act II

Scene IV

Rome. Philario’s house

Enter Posthumus and Philario

Philario: “See, Iachimo!”

Posthumus: “I hope the briefness of your answer made the speediness of your return.”

Iachimo: “Your lady is one of the fairest I have looked upon. Here are letters for you.”

Posthumus: “Their tenor good, I trust.”

Iachimo: “Tis very likely.”

Philario: “Was Caius Lucius in the British court when you were there?”

Iachimo: “He was expected then. (to Postumus) I’ll make a journey twice as far to enjoy a second not of such sweet shortness which was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.”

Posthumus: “The stone is too hard to come by.”

Iachimo: “Not a whit, your lady being so easy.”

Posthumus: “I hope you know that we must not continue friends.

Iachimo: “Good sir, we must if you keep covenant. I now profess myself the winner of her honour, together with your ring.”

Posthumus: “If you can make it apparent that you have tasted her in bed, my hand and ring are yours.”

Iachimo: “Sir, my circumstances, being so near the truth as I will make them.”

Posthumus: “Proceed.”

Iachimo: “First, her bedchamber, where I confess I slept not, but profess had that was well worth watching – it was hung with tapestry of silk and silver.”

Posthumus: “This is true; and this you might have heard of here.”

Iachimo: “More particulars must justify my knowledge.”

Posthumus: “So they must, or do your honour injury.”

Iachimo: “The chimney is south of the chamber, and the chimney piece is chaste Diana bathing.”

Posthumus: “This is a thing which you might from relation likewise reap, being as it is, much spoken of.”

Iachimo: “The roof of the chamber with golden cherubins is fretted; two winking cupids of silver.”

Posthumus: “This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this. The description of what is in her chamber nothing saves the wager you have laid.”

Iachimo: “Then be pale. See!” (shows the bracelet)

Posthumus: “Jove! Which I left with her?”

Iachimo: “She stripped it from her arm; I see her yet. She gave it to me and said she prized it once.”

Posthumus: “O, no, no, no! Tis true. Here, take this too. (gives him the ring) It is a basilisk unto my eye, and kills me to look upon it. Let there be no honour where there is beauty.”

Philario: “Have patience, sir, and take your ring again; tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it, or who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, has stolen it from her.”

Posthumus: “Very true; back my ring. Render to me some corporal sign about her, more evident than this; for this was stolen.”

Iachimo: “By Jupiter, I had it from her arm!”

Posthumus: “Hark, he swears by Jupiter. Tis true. Keep the ring, tis true. I am sure she would not lose it. Her attendants are all sworn and honourable. No, he has enjoyed her. She has bought the name of whore thus dearly.”

Philario: “Sir, be patient; this is not strong enough to be believed.”

Posthumus: “Never talk on it; she has been colted by him.”

Iachimo: “If you seek for further satisfying, under her breast lies a mole, and by my life I kissed it; and it gave me present hunger to feed again, though full. You do remember this stain upon her?”

Posthumus: “Ay, and it does confirm another stain, as big as hell can hold.”

Iachimo: “Will you hear more? I’ll be sworn.”

Posthumus: “No swearing. If you will swear you have not done it, you lie; and I will kill thee if thou does deny thou made me cuckold.”

Iachimo: “I’ll deny nothing.”

Posthumus: “O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do it in the court, before her father.”

Exit Posthumus

Philario: “You have won. Let’s follow him and pervert the present wrath he has against himself.”

Iachimo: “With all my heart.”

Summary and Analysis

Iachimo has returned to Italy and gradually makes his case that he had enjoyed Imogen. Posthumus is unconvinced until Iachimo describes the mole on her breast. Posthumus is heartbroken and enraged. He is also very easily convinced that Imogen has been untrue. Not for a second does he doubt Iachimo, once the mole is described, even though Iachimo is so shady a character and Imogen so pure of heart. Posthumus has been spoken of quite highly by Imogen and his friends until now. He comes across to us as no more than two dimensional but we give him the benefit of the doubt… until now. Here he reveals a most unfortunate character flaw, raging jealousy, which only deepens and worsens in the scenes ahead.

Act II

Scene v

Rome. A room in Philario’s house.

Enter Posthumus.

Posthumus: “We are all bastards, and that most venerable man who I did call my father was I know not where when I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed the Diana of that time. So does my wife. O, vengeance, vengeance! That I thought her as chaste as unsunned snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo in an hour found no opposition. There is no motion that tends to vice in man but I affirm it is the woman’s part. Be it lying, note it, the woman’s; flattery, hers; deceiving, hers; lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; ambitions, coverings, pride, disdain, longings, slanders, mutability, all faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows, why, hers, in part or all; but rather all; for even to vice they are not constant, but are changing still one vice but of a minute old for one not half so old as that. I’ll write against them, detest them, curse them. The very devils cannot plague them better.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus broods alone and goes deeper and deeper into his conviction that Imogen is a whore and ‘we all are bastards’. He professes that all of man’s vices stem from women. He goes fully overboard, which seems tragic and unnecessary as we, the audience, know full well that Iachimo is the villain here and Imogen remains blameless and completely devoted to Posthumus, who loses considerable credibility with us for having so little faith in so worthy a woman as Imogen.

Act III (7 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten and Caius Lucius with attendants

Cymbeline: “Now so, what would Augustus Caesar want with us?”

Lucius: “When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet lives, was in this Britain and conquered it, thine uncle granted Rome a tribute, yearly of three thousand pounds, which by thee lately is left untendered.”

Queen: “And shall be so ever.”

Cloten: “There be many Caesars. Britain is a world by itself, and we will nothing pay for wearing our own noses.”

Queen: “Caesar made here, but made not here his brag of ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’. With shame has was carried from off our coast twice beaten; and his ships, on our terrible seas cracked easily against our rocks.”

Cloten: “Come, there is no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I say, there are no more such Caesars. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? No more tribute.”

Cymbeline: “Till the injurious Romans did extort this tribute from us, we were free. Caesar’s ambition, which swelled so much that it did almost stretch the sides of the world, did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon ourselves to be.”

Lucius: “I am sorry, Cymbeline, that I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar thine enemy. Receive it from me then: war and confusion in Caesar’s name pronounce I against thee; look for fury not to be resisted.”

Summary and Analysis

Lucius, the Roman ambassador, insists that Britain continue to pay tribute to Rome, as they did during the reign of Julius Caesar. Cymbeline, his Queen and Cloten all insist that Britain is an independent isle and they refuse to consider paying tribute and Lucius essential declares a state of war between Rome and Britain. Interesting that Shakespeare would have the villainous Queen and her loathsome son be a part of these discussions along with the King.

Act III

Scene ii

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Pisanio, reading a letter.

Pisanio: “How? Of adultery? Posthumus? O master, what a strange infection has fallen into thy ear! What false Italian has prevailed on thy too ready hearing? Disloyalty? No. She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes, more goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults as would take in some virtue. O my master! Thy mind to her is now as low as were thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her? Her? Her blood? If it be so to do good service, never let me be counted serviceable. (he reads from the letter) ‘Do it. The letter that I have sent her shall give thee opportunity’. O damned paper, black as the ink that’s on thee. Senseless babble. Lo, here she comes.”

Enter Imogen

Imogen: “How now, Pisanio!”

Pisanio: “Madam, here is a letter from my lord.”

Imogen: “Posthumus? You good gods, let what is here contained relish of love and of my lord’s health. (she reads from the letter) ‘Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. He wishes you all happiness who remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love, Posthumus.’ O for a horse with wings! Hear’st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford Haven. Tell me how far tis hither. If one of mean affairs may plod it in a week, why may not I glide there in a day? Tell me how we may steal me hence. Go bid my woman to feign a sickness and provide me presently a riding suit.”

Pisanio: “Madam, you best consider.”

Imogen: “Away, I prithee; do as I bid thee. There is no more to say.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus wrote one letter to Pisanio, accusing Imogen of infidelity and instructing Pisanio to murder her, and another to Imogen, informing her that he is at Milford Haven. She immediately makes plans to go to him. The plot thickens here, as Posthumus is acting on his conviction that Iachimo has seduced Imogen and arranging her murder at the hands of his loyal servant, Pisanio, who is also loyal to Imogen. Pisanio immediately cuts to the quick and rightly determines that ‘some false Italian has prevailed on your too ready hearing.’ Surrounded by her angry father, Cymbeline, his wicked Queen and useless wooing son, Cloten, Imogen’s only hope resides in Posthumus, who on account of the lying and villainous Iachimo, wants to have Imogen murdered. And yet, naively, on to Milford Haven she ventures.

Act III

Scene iii

Wales. A cave in the mountains.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: “Hail, thou fair heaven! Now for our mountain sport. Up yonder hill; your legs are young. I’ll tread these flats.”

Guiderius: “We poor unfledged have never winged from view of the nest. Happily, this life is best, if quiet life be best. Well corresponding to your stiff age, but unto us it is a cell of ignorance.”

Arviragus: “What shall we speak of when we are as old as you? We have seen nothing; we are beastly.”

Belarius: “How you speak! Did you but know the city’s usuries – the art of the court, whose top to climb is certain falling, or so slippery that the fear is as bad as falling. O boys, this story the world may read in me: my body is marked with Roman swords. Cymbeline loved me, but in one night a storm, or a robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, and left me bare to weather. My fault being nothing, as I have told you often, but that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline that I was confederate with the Romans. So followed my banishment, and this twenty years this cave has been my world, where I have lived in honest freedom. But up to the mountains! He that strikes the venison first shall be the lord of the feast; to him the other two shall minister. I’ll meet you in the valleys.”

Exit Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: (aside) “How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little that they are sons to the King, nor does Cymbeline dream that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though trained meanly in the cave, their thoughts do hit the roofs of palaces. This Polydore, the heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who the King his father called Guiderius, when I sit and tell the warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out, the princely blood flows in his cheeks, strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture to act my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, once Aviragus, in as like a figure, strikes life into my speech. Hark, the game is roused. O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows thou did unjustly banish me! Whereon, at three and two years old, I stole these babes, thinking to bar thee of succession as thou reft me of my lands. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, they take for natural father. The game is up.”

Summary and Analysis

The main sub-plot is here finally introduced. King Cymbeline had two little sons, who one day were kidnapped. He knew not what became of them, but we now learn that Belarius stole them in response to being banished on false charges. He has raised the two boys in the mountains of Wales, where they now yearn to see the world. In the end he admits that the game is up. It is time he come clean with them that they are the heirs to Cymbeline’s kingdom. This is yet another example of Shakespeare characters escaping the ornate and corrupted cities and their courts for the simple freedom of the country. Interesting enough, Shakespeare himself will soon finally abandon his busy urban life in London and retire to the Stratford Upon Avon of his youth in the pristine countryside of Warwickshire.

Act III

Scene iv

Wales, near Milford Haven

Enter Pisanio and Imogen

Imogen: “Thou told me the place was near at hand. Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind that makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh from the inward of thee? What’s the matter? Why tender thou that paper to me with a look untender? Speak, man.”

Pisanio: “Please you read and you shall find me, wretched man, a thing the most disdained of fortune.”

Imogen: (reads) ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, has played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life; I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven; if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.’

Pisanio: “What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper has cut her throat already. No, tis slander, whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue out-venoms all the worms of Nile. What cheer, madam?”

Imogen: “False to his bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? That’s false to his bed, is it?”

Pisanio: “Alas, good lady!”

Imogen: “I false! Thy conscience witness! Iachimo, thou did accuse him of incontinency; thou then looked like a villain. Some jay of Italy has betrayed him. To pieces with me! O, men’s vows are women’s traitors! By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought put on for villainy.”

Pisanio: “Good madam, hear me.”

Imogen: “So thou, Posthumus, goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured from thy great fail. Come, fellow, do thou thy master’s bidding. Look! I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit the innocent mansion of my love, my heart. Fear not; tis empty of all things but grief; thy master is not there, who was indeed the riches of it. Do his bidding: strike. But now thou seems a coward.”

Pisanio: “Hence, vile instrument! Thou shall not damn my hand.”

Imogen: “Why, I must die; and if I do not by thy hand, thou are not servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter there is a prohibition so divine that cravens my weak hand. Come, here’s my heart. What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Posthumus all turned to heresy? Thus may poor fools believe false teachers. Prithee dispatch. The lamb entreats the butcher. Where is thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding, when I desire it too.”

Pisanio: “O gracious lady, since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink.”

Imogen: “Do it, and then to bed. Why has thou abused so many miles with a pretense? This place?”

Pisanio: “Good lady, hear me with patience.”

Imogen: “Talk thy tongue weary – speak. I have heard I am a strumpet, and my ear, therein false struck, can take no greater wound. But speak.”

Pisanio: “It cannot be but that my master is abused. Some villain has done you both this cursed injury.”

Imogen: “Some Roman courtesan!”

Pisanio: “n my life! I’ll give but notice that you are dead, and send him some bloody sign of it, for tis commanded that I should do so. You shall be missed at court, and that will well confirm it.”

Imogen: “Why, good fellow, what shall I do the while?”

Pisanio: “If you’ll back to the court -“

Imogen: “No court, no other, nor no more ado with that harsh, noble, simple nothing -that Cloten, whose love-suit has been to me as fearful as a siege.”

Pisanio: “If not at court, then not in Britain must you bide.”

Imogen: “Were then? Has Britain all the sun that shines?”

Pisanio: “The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven tomorrow. Now, if you could wear a mind as dark as your fortune is, and but disguise that which it appears itself must not yet be but by self-danger, you should tread a course pretty and full of view; yea, happily, near the residence of Posthumus; report should render him hourly to your ear as truly as he moves.”

Imogen: “O! For such means I would adventure.”

Pisanio: “Well then, here’s the point: you must forget to be a woman; change fear and niceness into a waggish courage; quick-answered, saucy, and as quarrelous as the weasel.”

Imogen: “I see into thy end, and am almost a man already.”

Pisanio: “First, make yourself but like one. I have already in my cloak-bag a doublet, hat, hose, and with what imitation you can borrow, before noble Lucius present yourself and desire your service. Doubtless with joy he will embrace you; for he’s honourable, and, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad – you have me, and I will never fail.”

Imogen: “Thou art all the comfort the gods will diet me with. This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with a prince’s courage.”

Pisanio: “Well, madam, we must take a short farewell. My noble mistress, here is a box; I had it from the Queen. What’s in it is a precious. If you are sick at sea or on land, a dram of this will drive away distemper.”

Imogen: “Amen. I thank thee.”

Summary and Analysis

Pisanio and Imogen approach Milford Haven and he has yet to share with her the terrible news of her supposed infidelity and Posthumus’ instruction to Pisanio to kill her. He finally has her read the dreadful letter from Posthumus to Pisanio revealing everything and she is in shock and despair, begging Pisanio to kill her and get it over with quickly. This he cannot do. Instead he has concocted a plan. They will fake Imogen’s death and investigate who has deceived him into believing that Imogen has been unfaithful. Perhaps, in this way, they can expose the truth and restore his love for her. Imogen instructs her to dress as a boy and employ herself in the service of Caius Lucius, the Roman military leader, where Posthumus likely is. He only claimed to Imogen that he was in Milford haven, so that Pisanio could isolate her in the remote mountains of Wales and dispatch her. Before they part, Pisanio gives Imogen the dram of what the Queen believed was poison, but what, in fact, the doctor wisely made into a sleeping potion, and what the Queen told Pisanio was a restorative and soothing cordial. He therefore tells her to take it with her, in the event she should become ill on her journey. While Posthumus has proven to be as foolish as anyone in the play, Imogen remains a beacon of light and purity. Hearing the news that she is so accused by Posthumus, who orders her death, she nonetheless, rebounds gracefully to adopt Pisanio’s plan to further investigate the circumstances of these bewildering accusations. It becomes increasingly clear why many critics believe Imogen to be Shakespeares most beautiful female character. No one in the play can even come close to matching her natural charm and eloquence or her resilience and strength of character in the face of adversity. Whatever she is doing with Posthumus is the question. Perhaps she believed her only other realistic choice was Cloten, which would explain a lot!

Act III

Scene v

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten and Lucius

Cymbeline: “Farewell.”

Lucius: “Thanks, royal sir. I am right sorry that I must report ye my master’s enemy.”

Cymbeline: “Our subjects, sir, will not endure his yoke.”

Lucius: “I desire of you a conduct overland, to Milford Haven.”

Cymbeline: “My lords, You are appointed for that office. Farewell, noble Lucius.”

Lucius: “Your hand, my lord.”

Cloten: “Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.”

Exit Lucius

Cymbeline: “Lucius had written already to the emperor how it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness. He moves his war for Britain.”

Queen: “Tis must be looked to speedily and strongly.”

Cymbeline: “My gentle Queen, where is our daughter? She has not appeared before the Roman. She looks at us like a thing more made of malice than of duty. We have noted it. Call her before us.”

Exit a messenger

Queen: “Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired has her life been; the cure, whereof, my lord, tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, forebear sharp speeches to her; she’s a lady so tender of rebukes that words are strokes and strokes death to her.”

Re-enter messenger

Cymbeline: “Where is she, sir? How can her contempt be answered?”

Messenger: “Please you, sir, her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer that will be given to the loud noise we make.”

Cymbeline: “Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear prove false!”

Exit the King

Cloten: “That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.”

Queen: “Go look after.”

Exit Cloten

Queen: “Pisanio, thou that stands so for Posthumus! He has a drug of mine. I pray his absence proceed by swallowing that; for he believes it is a thing most precious. But for her, where is she gone? Happily, despair has seized her; or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown to her desired Posthumus. Gone she is to death or to dishonour, and my end could make good use of either. She being down, I have the placing of the British crown.”

Re-enter Cloten

Cloten: “Tis certain she has fled. Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none dare come about him.”

Queen: “All the better.”

Exit Queen

Cloten: “I love and hate her; for she’s fair and royal. I love her therefore; but disdaining me and throwing favours on the low Posthumus slanders so her judgment that what’s else rare is choked; and on that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, to be revenged upon her.” (Enter Pisanio) “Who is here? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander. Villain, where is your lady? I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy heart, or rip thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot a dram of worth be drawn.”

Pisanio: “Alas, my lord, how can she be with him? He is in Rome.”

Cloten: “Where is she, sir? Satisfy me what has become of her.”

Pisanio: “O my all-worthy lord!”

Cloten: ” All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, at the next word. Speak, or thy silence on the instant is thy condemnation and thy death.”

Pisanio: “Then sir, this paper is the history of my knowledge touching her flight.”

Pisanio presents a letter

Cloten: “Let’s see it. I will pursue her even to Augustus’ throne.”

Pisanio: (aside) “What he learns by this may prove his travel, not her danger. I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen, safe may thou wander, safe return again!”

Cloten: “Sirrah, is this letter true?”

Pisanio: “Sir, as I think.”

Cloten: “Sirrah, if thou would not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry – that is, what villainy soever I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly – I would think thee an honest man. Will thou serve me?”

Pisanio: “Sir, I will.”

Cloten: “Has thou any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?”

Pisanio: “I have, my lord.”

Cloten: “The first service thou does for me, fetch that suit hither. Go.”

Pisanio: “I shall, my lord.”

Exit Pisanio

Cloten: “Meet thee at Milford Haven. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. She said that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes. There shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust has dined – which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised – to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She has despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.”

Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ clothes

Cloten: “Bring this apparel to my chamber; thou will be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous and true, preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings.

Exit Cloten

Pisanio: “Thou bids me to my loss; for true to me were to prove false, which I will never be, to him who is most true. To Milford go, and find not her whom thou pursues. Flow, flow, you heavenly blessings, on her! This fool’s speed be crossed with slowness!”

Summary and Analysis

Cymbeline prepares for war, insisting that Britain will not pay tribute to Rome. He is then informed that Imogen has not been seen in days and then learns that she has fled the court. Cloten begins to plan revenge on both Posthumus and Imogen. When Pisanio returns from Milford Haven, Cloten demands from him Imogen’s whereabouts. Pisanio sends Cloten to where he knows Imogen will no longer be. He also gives Cloten clothes of Posthumus, who expects to kill Posthumus and then rape Imogen while wearing Posthumus’ outfit. Cloten stoops so low in this scene, with his plans for murder and rape, that he is no longer simply a sadly pathetic character, but rather, in addition, a purely evil one, who Shakespeare will dispose of accordingly in the following act.

Act III

Scene vi

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius

Enter Imogen in boy’s clothes.

Imogen: “I see a man’s life as a tedious one. I have tired myself, and for two nights have made the ground my bed. I should be sick but that my resolution helps me. Ho! Who’s here? If anything that’s civil, speak; if savage, take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I’ll enter.”

Imogen enters the cave

Belarius: “You, Polydore, have proven best woodsman and are master of the feast. Cadwal and I will play the cook and servant.”

Guiderius: “I am thoroughly weary.”

Aviragus: “I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.”

Belarius: (looking into the cave) “But that it eats our victuals, I should think here were a fairy. By Jupiter, an angel! Behold divineness no elder than a boy.”

Enter Imogen

Imogen: “Good masters, harm me not. Before I entered here I called, and thought to have begged or bought what I have taken. I have stolen nought. Here’s money for my meat.”

Belarius: “Wither bound?”

Imogen: “To Milford Haven.”

Belarius: “What’s your name?”

Imogen: “Fedele, sir. I have a kinsman who is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford, to whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in this offence.”

Belarius: “Prithee, fair youth, think us no churls, nor measure our good minds by this rude place we live in. Boys, bid him welcome.”

Aviragus: “I’ll love him as my brother. Most welcome! You fall amongst friends.”

Imogen: (aside) “Would it had been so that they had been my father’s sons! Then had my prize been more equal ballasting to thee, Posthumus.”

Belarius: “He wrings at some distress.”

Guiderius: “Would I could free it.”

Imogen: (aside) “Great men, who had a court no bigger than this cave. I’d change my sex, to be companion with them, since Posthumus be false.”

Belarius: “Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supped, we’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story, so far as thou will speak it.”

Imogen: “Thanks, sir.”

Summary and Analysis

Imogen, dressed a s boy, stumbles upon the cave of Belarius and his two sons, as Cymbeline’s three children are finally re-united. She introduces herself as Fedele and although they have no idea that this is their sister the two boys are strangely attracted to ‘Fedele’ right away. Aviragus: “I’ll love him as my brother.” The two plots are now interwoven and will remain so.

Act III

Scene vii

Rome, a public place

Enter two Roman soldiers and Tribunes

1 Senator: “This is the tenor of the Emperor’s writ: that we do incite the gentry to this business. He creates Lucius proconsul. Long live Caesar!”

Trinune: “Is Lucius general of the forces?”

2 Senator: “Ay.”

Summary and Analysis

Rome prepares for war, with Lucius leading the army.

Act IV (4 scenes)

Scene i

Wales. Near the cave of Belarius.

Enter Cloten.

Cloten: “I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio has mapped it truly. Therein I must play the workman. The lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth. Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, happily, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! This is the very description of their meeting-place.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten has arrived in Wales, near the cave of Belarius and his sons. Pisanio clearly sent him to the remote mountains of Wales. However, what Pisanio did not know is that Imogen has also made her way to the same region. Cloten compares himself favourable to Posthumus and then describes his plan to kill Posthumus and ravish Imogen in Posthumus’ clothing, before dragging her back to the court of Cymbeline as his wife. This is considered a comedy, so the villain will inevitably get his comeuppance (actually, in the very next scene) and the lead couple will endure and survive and even thrive by the journey’s end.

Act IV

Scene ii

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aviragus and Imogen (Fidele)

Belarius: (to Imogen) “You are not well. Remain here in the cave.”

Aviragus: (to Imogen) “Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers?”

Guiderius: “Go you to hunting: I’ll abide with him.”

Imogen: “So sick I am not, yet I am not well, so please you, leave me. I am ill, but your being by me cannot amend me. I am not very sick, since I can reason of it.”

Guiderius: “I love thee as I do love my father.”

Arviragus: “I know not why I love this youth.”

Belarius: (aside) “O noble strain! I’m not their father.”

Imogen: (aside) “These are kind creatures. I am sick still; heart sick. Pisanio, I’ll now taste of thy drug.” (swallows the Queen’s concoction)

Belarius: “Pray, be not sick.”

Imogen: “Well or ill, I am bound to you.”

Exit Imogen into the cave

Enter Cloten

Cloten: “I cannot find those runagate; that villain has mocked me. I am faint.”

Belarius: “Those runagate? Means he not us? I partly know him; tis Cloten, the son of the Queen. I fear some ambush. We are held as outlaws.”

Guiderius: “He is but one. Pray you away; let me alone with him.”

Exit Belarus and Arviragus

Cloten: “Soft, what are you? Some villainous mountaineers? What slave art thou? Thou art a robber, a law breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief.”

Guiderius: “To who? To thee? What art thou? Why should I yield to thee?”

Cloten: “Thou villain base, know me not by my clothes?”

Guiderius: “No, rascal. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee.”

Cloten: “Thou injurious thief. Hear about my name and tremble.”

Guiderius: “What’s thy name?”

Cloten: “Cloten, thy villain.”

Guiderius: “Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it. Were it a toad, an adder or a spider, t’would move me sooner.”

Cloten: “Thou shall know I am son to the Queen. Art not afraid?”

Guiderius: “At fools I laugh and not fear them.”

Cloten: “Die the death. When I have slain thee with my proper hand, on the gates of Lud’s Tower will I set your head, rustic mountaineer.”

Re-enter Guiderius with Cloten’s head

Guiderius: “This Cloten was a fool. Not even Hercules could have knocked out his brains, for he had none.”

Belarius: “What has thou done?”

Guiderius: “Cut off one Cloten’s head, son to the Queen, who called me a traitor and swore he would take us in and displace our heads and set them on Lud’s Tower.”

Belarius: “We are all undone.”

Guiderius: “Why, worthy father, what have we to lose but that he swore to take our lives? The law protects not us; then why should we be tender to let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us.”

Belarius: “He must have some attendants. Not frenzy, not absolute madness, could so far have raved, to bring him here alone. Perhaps it may be heard at court that such as we cave here, hunt here and are outlaws.”

Guiderius: “With his own sword, which he did wave against my throat, I have taken his head from him. I’ll throw it into the creek and let it to the sea and tell the fishes he is the Queen’s son, Cloten.”

Exit Guiderius and Aviragus

Belarius: “I fear it will be revenged. Well, it is done. O thou goddess, thou divine nature, thou blazons in these two princely boys. Tis wonder that an invisible instinct should frame them to royalty unlearned, honour untaught, civility not seen from other, valour that widely grows in them; yet still its strange what Cloten’s being here to us portends, or what his death will bring us.”

Re-enter Guiderius and Arviragus with Imogen apparently dead

Arviragus: “The bird is dead who we have made so much on. I had rather have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty than have seen this.”

Guiderius: “O sweetest, fairest lily!”

Belarius: “O melancholy! Jove knows what man thou might have made. Thou died a most rare boy, of melancholy.”

Arviragus: “I thought he slept. With fairest flowers I will sweeten thy sad grave.”

Guiderius: “Let us bury him.”

Belarius: “Great grief, I see Cloten is quite forgotten. He was a Queen’s son, boys; and though he became our enemy, our foe was princely; and though you took his life, as being our foe, yet bury him as a prince.”

Guiderius: “Come, lay him down.”

Belarius: “Here are a few flowers. The ground that gave them first has them again. Their pleasures here are past and so is their pain.”

Exit all but Imogen

Imogen: (awaking) “Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? Can it be six miles yet? Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep. But soft! (seeing the body) This bloody man I hope I dream; for so I thought I was a cave keeper to honest creatures. But tis not so. I tremble still with fear; a headless man? The garments of Posthumus? This is his hand, his foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, the brawns of Hercules; but his jovial face – murder in heaven! How! Tis gone. Pisanio, who conspired with that devil, Cloten, has here cut off my lord. O Posthumus! Alas, where is thy head? Ay, me! How should this be? This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten’s. O, my lord, my lord.

Imogen faints on the body

Enter Lucius, captains and a soothsayer

Lucius: “Now, sir, What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?”

Soothsayer: “I saw the Roman eagle vanish in the sunbeams, which portends, unless my sins abuse my divination, success to the Roman host.”

Lucius: “What trunk is here without his top? How? A page sleeping on him? But dead, rather. Let’s see the boy’s face.”

Captain: “He’s alive, my lord.”

Lucius: “He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one, inform us of thy fortunes; for it seems they crave to be demanded. Who is this thou makes your bloody pillow? What’s thy interest in this sad wreck? Who is it? What art thou?”

Imogen: “I am nothing. This was my master, a very valiant Briton, who here lies slain. Alas! There are no more such masters.”

Lucius: “Say his name, good friend.”

Imogen: ” Richard Du Champ. (aside) If I do lie and do no harm by it, I hope they’ll pardon it.”

Lucius: “Thy name?”

Imogen: “Fidele, sir.”

Lucius: “Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. Will thou take thy chance with me? I will not say thou shall be so well mastered; but be sure, no less beloved. Go with me.”

Imogen: “I’ll follow, sir, but first I’ll hide my master from the flies, as deep as pickaxes can dig; and when I have strewed his grave, and on it said a century of prayers, such as I can, twice over, I’ll weep and sigh; and leaving so his service, follow you.”

Lucius: “Ay, good youth; and rather father thee than master thee. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes. Some falls are means the happier to arise.”

Summary and Analysis

Imogen remains with Belarius, Guiderius and Aviragus but takes ill. While they are out hunting she takes the potion that Pisanio gave her, thinking it is medicine. What we know is that it is a strong sedative, and she enters into a deep sleep. Cloten arrives in the area, dressed as Posthumus, and encounters the three aforementioned cave dwellers. He is very rude with them and ends up fighting Guiderius, who cuts off his head. Belarius recognizes that this was Cloten and worries they will be punished for killing him. They find Imogen (Fedele) in his deep sleep and assume he is dead. They are all deeply dismayed and lay both Imogen’s and Cloten’s body next to one another and depart for a time. Imogen wakes up to find what appears to be Posthumus’ headless body next to her. Grief stricken, she lays herself on his lifeless body. Meanwhile the Roman army, arrives, led by Lucius, and they come upon the two seemingly dead bodies. Imogen, dressed as Fedele, awakens and offers herself as a page to Lucius. So Cymbeline’s three children are re-united, one of them kills Cloten and they assume Imogen is dead as well, as she prepares to return to Rome with Lucius. As we said initially, this is a very busy plot!

Act IV

Scene iii

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords and Pisanio

Cymbeline: “Again, bring me word how it is with her. A fever with the absence of her son; a madness, of which her life’s in danger. Imogen, the great part of my comfort, gone; my queen upon a desperate bed, and in a time when fearful wars point at me; her son gone; it strikes me past the hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, who needs must know of her departure and does seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee by a sharp torture.”

Pisanio: “Sir, my life is yours; I humbly set it at your will; but for my mistress, I nothing know of where she remains, why gone, nor when she purposes to return.”

Lord: “Good, my liege, the day that she was missing he was here. I dare be bound he’s true and shall perform all parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, there wants no diligence in seeking him, and will no doubt be found.”

Cymbeline: “The time is troublesome.”

Lord: “So please your Majesty, the Roman legions are landed on your coast, with a supply of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent.”

Cymbeline: “Let’s withdraw, and meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not what can from Italy annoy us; but we grieve at chances here. Away!”

Exit all but Pisanio

Pisanio: “I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him that Imogen was slain. Tis strange not to hear from my mistress, who did promise to yield me often tidings. Neither know I what has become of Cloten, but remain perplexed in all. The heavens still must work. Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.

Summary and Analysis

Cymbeline is still desperate to learn what has become of Imogen and Cloten. His wife is ill and in a state of madness over Cloten. He presses Pisanio, who really knows nothing of either of their whereabouts. Cymbeline is advised to focus on the Roman invasion but he is too preoccupied with these domestic matters involving his daughter, step son and queen.

Act IV

Scene iv

Wales. At the Cave of Belarius.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus.

Guierius: “What hope have we in hiding? This way the Romans must slay us.”

Belarius: “Sons, we’ll higher to the mountains: there secure us. Newness of Cloten’s death may drive from that which we have done, whose answer would be death, drawn on with torture.”

Aviragus: “It is not likely that when they hear the Roman horses neigh, that they will waste their time upon our note, to know from whence we are.”

Belarus: “O, I am known by many in their army. Have with you, boys! That is my bed, too, lads and there I’ll lie. Lead, lead! (aside) The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn till it fly out and show them princes born.”

Summary and Analysis

The armies are very near to the cave and Belarius wants to lay low, as he will be well known to many of the English fighters and does not want to be seen where Cloten was murdered. But his sons are anxious to fight for King Cymbeline and in the end Belarius relents and tells them to ‘lead on’. This is the end of act IV. The extensive resolution scenes await. But with a plot this complex there are shreds of pieces widely scattered and Shakespeare will summon up his utmost skill to bring this one to a more than satisfactory conclusion. Buckle up!

Act V (5 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. The Roman camp.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief

Posthumus: “Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee; for I wished thou should be coloured thus. O, Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands; no bond but to do just ones. I am brought hither among the Italian gentry, and to fight against my lady’s kingdom. Tis enough that, Briton, I have killed thy mistress; peace! I’ll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me of these Italian weeds, and suit myself as does a British peasant. So I’ll die for thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life is every breath a death. And thus unknown to the face of peril, myself I’ll dedicate. Let me make men know more valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength of the Leonati in me!”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus finds himself a soldier in the Italian army but decides he has done enough against Briton, by engineering the death of Imogen. Pisanio has sent him a bloody handkerchief which supposedly proves he followed Posthumus’ command to kill her. He decides to switch clothes, in the midst of battle, and appear as a Biritish peasant.

Act V

Scene ii

Briton. A field of battle between the British and the Roman camps.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo and the Romans at one door and the British army at another, with Posthumus following like a poor soldier. Then enter again Posthumus and Iachimo in a skirmish. Iachimo is vanquished and disarmed and leaves.

Iachimo: “The heaviness and guilt within my bosom takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, the princess of this country, and the air on it raveningly enfeebles me.”

The battle continues; the British fly; Cymbeline is taken. Then enter to his rescue Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: “Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; the lane is guarded; nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.”

Guiderius and Arviragus: “Stand, stand, and fight!”

Re-enter Posthumus and several British. They rescue Cymbeline. Then re-enter Lucius and Iachimo, with Imogen.

Lucius: “Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself. It is a day turned strangely.”

Summary and Analysis

The battle rages on between the British and the Romans. Posthumus is disguised and defeats Iachimo in a skirmish. Iachimo expresses regrets that he falsely accused Imogen. Cymbeline is taken prisoner but then Belarius arrives with his two boys, Guiderius and Arviragus, and they save the day. Posthumus and several British soldiers re-take Cymbeline. The British are victorious in the end. The complex plot inches along. Posthumus had made his way to Italy, having been banished from Briton. He joined Lucius’ army for a time but now switches, out of guilt, back to the side of the British. Imogen has also made he way to Italy, disguised as Fedele, as a page to Lucius. Iachimo, an Italian, fights for Italy. The Romans are fighting the British in Wales near the cave of Belarius and his two boys, who join the battle and help free Cymbeline, who is really their father, from Roman captivity. So most of the principle characters are assembled, as things slowly prepare to sort themselves out in this final act.

Act V

Scene iii

Another part of the field.

Enter Posthumus and a British lord.

Lord: “Came thou from where they made the stand?”

Posthumus: “I did. All was lost, but that the heavens fought. The King himself of his wings destitute, the army broken, and but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, through a straight lane – the enemy, full hearted, lolling the tongue with slaughtering, that the straight path was damned with dead men and cowards living to die with lengthened shame.”

Lord: “Where was this lane?”

Posthumus: “Close by the battle, which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, and an honest one, I warrant, in doing this for his country. Athwart this lane, he, with two striplings, made good the passage, cried to those who fled ‘Our British hearts die flying, not our men. Stand!’ These three, three thousand confident, in act as many, by example, began to grin like lions upon the pikes of the hunters. Then began a stop in the chaser and anon, a rout, confusion thick. Ten chased by one are now each one the slaughterer of twenty.”

Lord: “This was strange chance: a narrow lane, an old man and two boys.”

Posthumus: “Nay, do not wonder at it. Two boys, an old man and a lane preserved the British.”

Exit the lord

Posthumus: “For being now a favourer to the British, I have resumed again the part I came in. Fight I will no more, but yield me to the veriest hind that shall once touch my shoulder.”

Enter two British captains and soldiers.

1 Captain: “Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken. ‘Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.”

2 Captain: “There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, that gave the affront with them.”

1 Captain: “So it is reported; but none can be found. Stand! Who goes there?”

Posthumus: “A Roman.”

2 Captain: “Lay hands on him; a dog! Bring him to the King.”

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus and Pisanio, with Roman captives. The captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a jailer.

Summary and Analysis

We hear about how the British were being routed until the old man and his two sons saved the day in the narrow laneway, fighting bravely and convincing the fleeing British to turn and fight. They had the Romans on the run and Lucius is taken prisoner. Then Posthumus once again assumes the garb of a Roman in order to deliberately be taken prisoner by the British. Things happen fast here, but of significance is Belarus and his boys rescuing Cymbeline, their actual father, and Posthumus purposefully being taken prisoner by the British. Again, its all slowly beginning to come together in this ‘comedy’, meaning all is destined to turn out well, except for the villains. Cloten is already dead and things don’t look good for the Queen. Iachimo will repent and be forgiven.

Act V

Scene iv

Britain. A prison.

Enter Posthumus and two jailers.

1 Jailer: “You shall not now be stolen, as you have locks upon you.”

Exit jailers

Posthumus: “Most welcome, bondage! For thou art a way, I think, to liberty. My conscience, thou art fettered more than my shanks and wrists. Is it enough that I am sorry? For Imogen’s dear life take mine; and though it is not so dear, it is a life. And so, great powers, if you will take this audit, take this life, and cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I’ll speak to thee in silence.”

Posthumus falls asleep.

Enter, as an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Posthumus, and his wife, mother to Posthumus. Then follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They all circle around Posthumus as he sleeps.

Sicilius Leonatus: “No more, thou thunder master, show thy spite on mortal flies. Has my poor boy done aught but well, whose face I never saw? I died while in the womb he stayed, attending nature’s law.”

Mother: “From me was Posthumus ripped, came crying amongst his foes, a thing of pity.”

Sicilius Leonatus: “He deserved the praise of the world as great Sicilius’ heir.”

Mother: “With marriage wherefore was he mocked to be exiled and thrown from his dearest one, sweet Imogen?”

Sicilius Leonatus: “Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy, to taint his nobler heart and brain with needless jealousy.”

Mother: “Since, Jupiter, our son is good, take off his miseries.”

Brothers: “Help, Jupiter!”

Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning. He throws a thunderbolt. The ghosts fall on their knees.

Jupiter: “No more, you petty spirits of regions low offend our hearing. Hush! How dare you ghosts accuse the thunderer. No care of yours it is; you know tis ours. Whom best I love I cross. Be content. Your low-laid son the gods will uplift. He trials are spent. He shall be lord of Lady Imogen. And so away with your impatience, lest you stir up mine.

Jupiter ascends

All: “Thanks, Jupiter!”

The ghosts vanish

Posthumus: (waking) “Sleep, thou has been a father to me; and thou has created a mother and two brothers. But O scorn, gone! They went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake, dream as I have done. I wake and find nothing.”

Enter a jailer

Jailer: “Come sir, are you ready for death?”

Posthumus: “Over-roasted, rather; ready long ago.”

Jailer: “Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked. A heavy reckoning for you, sir.”

Posthumus: “I am merrier to die than thou are to live.”

Jailer: “Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. But a man who was to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.”

Posthumus: “Yes indeed, do I, fellow.”

Jailer: “Your death has eyes in its head, then; you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you shall speed in your journey’s end , I think you’ll never return to tell one. What an innate mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Knock off his manacles: bring your prisoner to the King.”

Posthumus: “Thou brings good news. I am called to be made free.”

Jailer: “I’ll be hanged then.”

Summary and Analysis

In a British prison Posthumus asks the gods to take his life as payment for Imogen’s. Then he falls asleep and is visited by the ghosts of his father, mother and two brothers, who plead with Jupiter to end his suffering. Jupiter appears and chides them for appealing to him for help but then tells them that his trials are over and he shall live to be with Imogen. He awakens with a sense that he has been visited by his late family, although they are gone. The jailer tells him he is condemned to die and he claims that he is happy to die just as a messenger arrives to tell him that he being freed and brought before the King. Many critics are appalled by the writing in this scene around the ghosts and Jupiter. It has led several of them to insist that Shakespeare could not possibly have written these Iines, especially as they are soon contrasted by exceptionally well written lines between Posthumus and his jailer. Regardless, he is about to face the king who exiled him at the beginning of the play, and Jupiter has informed us of his impending reconciliation with Imogen.

Act V

Scene v

Briton. Cymbeline’s tent.

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aviragus, Pisanio, lords and attendants.

Cymbeline: “Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made. Preservers of my throne, woe is my heart, that the poor soldier who so richly fought cannot be found. He shall be happy who can find him.”

Belarius: “I never saw such noble fury in so poor a thing.”

Cymbeline: “No tidings of him?”

Pisanio: “He has been searched among the dead and the living, but no trace of him.”

Cymbeline: (to Belarius, Guiderius and Aviragus) “The reward will I add to you, the liver, the heart and the brain of Britain. Tis now the time to ask of whence you are. Report it.”

Belarius: “In Cambria we are born, and gentlemen. We are honest.”

Cymbeline: “Bow your knees and arise my knights. I will fit you with dignities becoming your estates.”

Enter Cornelius and ladies

Cymbeline: “There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly greet you our victory?”

Cornelius: “Hail, great King! To sour your happiness I must report the Queen is dead.

Cymbeline: “Who worse than a physician would this report become? How ended she?”

Cornelius: “With horror, madly dying, like her life; which, being cruel to the world, concluded most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report.”

Cymbeline: “Prithee, say.”

Cornelius: “First, she confessed she never loved you; only affected greatness got by you, not you; married your royalty, was wife to your place; abhorred your person.”

Cymbeline: “She alone knew this. But that she spoke it dying, I would not believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.”

Cornelius: “Your daughter she did confess was a scorpion to her sight; whose life, but that her flight prevented it, she had taken off by poison.”

Cymbeline: “O most delicate fiend! Who is it can read a woman? Is there more?”

Cornelius: “More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had for you a mortal mineral, which, being took, should by the minute feed on life, and, lingering, by inches waste you, in which time she purposed to work her son into the adoption of the crown; but failing of her end by his strange absence, grew shameless and desperate, opened her purpose, repented the evil she hatched were not effected; so, despairing, died.”

Cymbeline: “Heard you all this, her women?”

Lady: “We did, so please your Highness.”

Cymbeline: “Mine eyes were not at fault, for she was beautiful; mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, that thought her like her seeming. It would have been vicious to have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter. Heaven mend all!”

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the soothsayer and other Roman prisoners, guarded; Posthumus behind, and Imogen.

Cymbeline: :”Thou comes not, Caius, for tribute.”

Lucius: “Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day was yours by accident; had it gone with us, we should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods will have it thus, that nothing but our lives may be called ransom, let it come. This one thing only I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, let him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent and true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save him, sir.”

Cymbeline: “I have surely seen him. His favour is familiar to me. Boy, thou has looked yourself into my grace, and art my own. Ask of Cymbeline what boon thou will, fitting my bounty and thy state, and I’ll give it.”

Imogen: “I humbly thank your Highness.”

Cymbeline: “What’s thy name?”

Imogen: “Fidele, sir.”

Cymbeline: “Thou art my good youth, my page; I’ll be thy master. Walk with me and speak freely.”

Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart.

Belarius: “Is not this boy revived from death?”

Guiderius: “The same dead thing alive.”

Belarius: “Peace, peace! See further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike; were it he, I am sure he would have spoken to us.”

Pisanio: (aside) “It is my mistress. She is living.”

Cymbeline and Imogen advance

Cymbeline: “Come, stand by our side; make thy demand aloud. (to Iachimo) Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, or by our greatness, bitter torture shall winnow the truth from falsehood.”

Imogen: “My boon is that this gentleman may render of whom he had this ring.”

Posthumus: (aside) “What’s that to him?”

Cymbeline: “That diamond upon your finger, say how came it yours.”

Iachimo: “Thou will torture me to leave unspoken which to be spoken would torture thee.”

Cymbeline: “How? Me?”

Iachimo: “I am glad to be restrained to utter that which torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; twas Posthumus’ jewel, whom thou did banish, and, which more may grieve thee, as it does me, a nobler sir never lived between sky and ground. Will thou here more, my lord?”

Cymbeline: “All that belongs to this.”

Iachimo: “That paragon, thy daughter, for whom my false spirits quail to remember – give me leave, I faint.”

Cymbeline: “My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. Strive, man, and speak.”

Iachimo: “Upon a time – unhappy was the clock that struck the hour – it was in Rome – the good Posthumus; he was too good to be where ill men are, and was the best off all amongst the rarest of good ones, sitting sadly and hearing us praise our loves of Italy; this Posthumus, most like a noble lord, and not dispraising who we praised began to paint his mistress’s picture. His description proved us unspeaking sots.”

Cymbeline: “To the purpose.”

Iachimo: “Your daughter’s chastity – there it begins. He spoke of her as Diana, whereat I, wretch, made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him pieces of gold against this which then he wore upon his honoured finger, to attain the place of her bed and win this ring by hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, no lesser of her honour confident than I did truly find her, stakes this ring. Away to Briton posted I in this design, where I was taught of your chaste daughter the wide difference between amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched of hope, my Italian brain, for my vantage, operated most vilely. My practice so prevailed that I returned with similar proof enough to make the noble Posthumus mad, by wounding his belief in her renown with tokens thus and thus, with notes of chamber hangings, pictures, this her bracelet – o cunning, how I got it – nay, some marks of secret on her person, that he could not but think her bond of chastity quite cracked, whereupon I think I see him now.”

Posthumus: (coming forward) “Ay, so thou does, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything that’s due to all the villains past, in being or to come. O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, some upright justice. Thou king, send out for torturers ingenious. I am Posthumus, who killed thy daughter; villain-like, I lie – that caused a lesser villain than myself, a sacrilegious thief, to do it. The temple of virtue was she. Every villain be called Posthumus. O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!”

Imogen: “Peace, my lord. Hear, hear!”

Posthumus: “Shall you have a play at this? Thou scornful page. There lie thy part.” (He strikes her. She falls)

Pisanio: “O gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! You never killed Imogen until now. Help, help! Mine honoured lady!”

Cymbeline: “Does the world go round?”

Pisnio: “Wake, my mistrss!”

Cymbeline: “If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me to death with mortal joy.”

Pisanio: “How fares my mistress?”

Imogen: “O, get thee from my sight; thou gave me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! breathe not where princes are.”

Cymbeline: “The tune of Imogen!”

Pisanio: “Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if that box I gave you was not thought by me a precious thing! I had it from the Queen.”

Cymbeline: “New matter still?”

Imogen: “It poisoned me.”

Cornelius: “O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed, which must prove thee honest.”

Cymbeline: “What’s this, Cornelius?”

Cornelius: “The Queen, sir, very often importuned me to temper poisons for her; still pretending the satisfaction of her knowledge only in killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, I, dreading that her purpose was of more danger, did compound for her a certain stuff, which, being taken, would cease the present power of life, but in short time all offices of nature should again do their due functions. Have you taken from it?”

Imogen: “Most like I did, for I was dead.”

Belarious: “My boys, there was our error.”

Guiderius: “This is surely Fidele.”

Imogen: “Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? (embracing him)

Posthumus: “Hang there like a fruit, my soul, till the tree die!”

Cymbeline: “How now, my flesh? My child? Will thou not speak to me?”

Imogen: (knelling) “Your blessing, sir.”

Belarius: (to Guiderius and Arviragus) “Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; you had a motive for it.”

Cymbeline: “My tears that fall prove holy water on thee! Imogen, thy mother’s dead.”

Imogen: “I am sorry for it, my lord.”

Cymbeline: “O, she was naught; but her son is gone, we know not how or where.”

Pisanio: “Now fear is from me, I’ll speak truth. Lord Cloten, upon my lady’s missing, came to me with his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore, if I discovered not which way she was gone, it was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master’s then in my pocket, which directed him to seek her in the mountains near Milford Haven; where in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, which he enforced from me, away he posts with unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate my lady’s honour. What became of him I further know not.”

Guiderius: “Let me end the story: I slew him there. I have spoken it, and I did it.”

Cymbeline: “He was a prince.”

Guiderius: “A most uncivil one. The wrongs he did me were nothing prince-like. I cut off his head, and am right glad that he is not standing here to tell this tale of mine.”

Cymbeline: “I am sorry for thee. By thine own tongue thou are condemned and are dead.”

Imogen: “That headless man I thought had been my lord.”

Cymbeline: “Bind the offender, and take him from our presence.”

Belarius: “Stay, sir King. This man is better than the man he slew, as well descended as thyself, and has more of thee merited than a band of Cloten’s had ever scar for. (to the guards) Let his arms alone; they were not born for bondage.”

Cymbeline: “Why, old soldier, will thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for by tasting of our wrath? How of descent as good as we? Thou shall die for it.”

Belarius: “We will die all three; my sons, I must for thine own part unfold a dangerous speech, though happily well for you. Thou had, great King, a subject who was called Belarius.”

Cymbeline: “What of him? He is a banished traitor.”

Belarius: “He it is who has assumed this age; indeed a banished man; I know not how a traitor.”

Cymbeline: “Take him hence, the whole world shall not save him.”

Belarius: “No too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons.”

Cymbeline: “The nursing of my sons?”

Belarius: “I am too blunt and saucy: here is my knee. Mighty sir, these two young gentlemen, who call me father, and think they are my sons, are none of mine; they are the issue of thy loins, my liege, and blood of your begetting.”

Cymbeline: “How? My issue?”

Belarius: “So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan, am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment itself, and all my treason; that I suffered was all the harm I did. These gentle princes – for such and so they are – these twenty years have I trained; those arts they have as I could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as our Highness knows. Their nurse, whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children upon my banishment; I moved her to it, having received the punishment before for that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty excited me to treason. Their dear loss, the more of you twas felt, the more it shaped unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, here are your sons again, and I must lose two of the sweetest companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy to inlay heaven with stars.”

Cymbeline: “Thou weeps and speaks. The service that you three have done is more unlike than this thou tells. I lost my children. If this be they, I know not how to wish a pair of worthier sons.”

Belarius: “Be pleased awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, is true Prince Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, your younger princely son.”

Cymbeline: “Guiderius had upon his neck a mole; it was a mark of wonder.”

Belarius: “This is he, who has upon him still that natural stamp, to be his evidence now.”

Cymbeline: “O, what am I? Another to the birth of three? Never mother rejoiced deliverance more. Blessed pray you be. O Imogen, thou has lost by this a kingdom.”

Imogen: “No,my lord; I have gotten two worlds by it. O, my gentle brothers, have we just met? You called me brother when I was but your sister: I you brothers, when we were so indeed.”

Cymbeline: “Did you ever meet?”

Aviragus: “Ay, my good lord.”

Guiderius: “And at first meeting loved, and continued so until we thought he died.”

Cornelius: “By the Queen’s dram she swallowed.”

Cymbeline: “O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment has to it circumstantial branches, which distinction should be rich in. Where? How lived you? When came you to serve our Roman captive? How part with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? These, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, and all the other by-dependances, from chance to chance. But nor this time nor place will serve our long interrogatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; and she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye on him, her brothers, me, hitting each object with a joy. (to Belarius) You are my brother, so we’ll hold thee forever.”

Imogen: “You are my father, too.”

Cymbeline: “All overjoyed, save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, for they shall taste our comfort.”

Imogen: “My good master, I will yet do you service.”

Lucius: “Happy be you!”

Cymbeline: “The forlorn soldier, who so nobly fought, he would have well become this place and graced the thanking of a king.”

Posthumus: “I am, sir, the soldier who did accompany these three in poor beseeming; twas a figment for the purpose I then followed. That I was he, speak, Iachimo. I had you down and might have made you finish.”

Iachimo: (kneeling) “I am down again; but now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, as then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, which I so often owe; but your ring first, and here the bracelet of the truest princess who ever swore her faith.”

Posthumus: “Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you; the malice toward you to forgive you. Live, and deal with others better.”

Cymbeline: “Pardon is the word to all. Well, my peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, , although the victor, we submit to Caesar and the Roman Empire, promising to pay our wonted tribute, from the which we were dissuaded by our wicked queen, whom heaven in justice, both on her and hers, have laid most heavy hand.’

Soothsayer: “The fingers of the powers above do tune the harmony of this peace. The imperial Caesar, should again unite his favour with the radiant Cymbeline, which shines here in the west.”

Cymbeline: “Laud we the gods. And let our crooked smoke climb to their nostrils from our blessed altars. Publish we this peace to all our subjects. Set we forward; let a Roman and a British ensign wave friendly together. And in the temple of great Jupiter our peace we’ll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.”

Summary and Analysis

This nearly 500 line scene is about as full and dense as any Shakespeare scene that comes to mind. He has his work cut out in here, that’s for sure. And whereas there are countless harsh critics of this play overall, few take issue with the accomplishment of bringing together all of the widely dispersed bits and pieces into a cohesive whole by the end. This last scene, indeed, is a tour de force and one of Shakespeare’s finest.

King Cymbeline gathers Belarius and his two sons and commends them for their extraordinary bravery in battle against the Romans. It was clearly the three of them who turned the tide of the war in favour of the British. He shows his gratitude by knighting all three men. He still has no idea that this was his former counsellor and his own to sons. Only Belarius knows this. Next we learn from Cornelius that the Queen is dead and that before she died she confessed to never having loved the King and had planned to slowly poison him to ensure that her son, Cloten, would inherit the kingdom. The Roman prisoners are presented to Cymbeline and Lucius asks that his page, Fedele, who we know to be Imogen, be saved. Cymbeline agrees to this and even employs him as his own page. Imogen, still disguised as Fedele, demands to know of Iachimo, how he got the ring from off of Posthumus’ finger. Of course we know that Posthumus gave it to him, as part of the wager that Iachimo could seduce her. Iachimo comes clean and confesses his entire role in deceiving both Posthumus and Imogen. At this point, knowing that Posthumus was duped by Iachimo into believing that she had been unfaithful, she takes off her boy costume and reveals herself to be Imogen. The couple are re-united and the entire story is revealed of how Imogen arrived at the cave with Belarius and his two boys and how she appeared to be dead from consuming the Queen’s potion, which was intended to kill her, except that Cornelius made it into a mere heavy sleeping pill, although Imogen took it thinking it was a healing concoction, and how Cloten met his fate with Belarus and sons. At first Cymbeline insists that Guiderius must die for having killed Cloten, who was a prince, but at this point Belarus informs Cymbeline that the two boys are his long lost sons. The king is overjoyed and forgives Belarus his banishment and embraces his princely sons. Iachimo offers his life to Posthumus, but Posthumus, in the spirit of all of this reconciliation, forgives him. In the end, Cymbeline releases all of his prisoners and even ensures Lucius that the British will resume paying tribute. This may seem odd, as he was just earlier willing to go to war over this, but apparently that was all the doings of the Queen, who will no longer influence his decisions. The entire ensemble merrily depart the stage to feast and sacrifice at the altar of Jupiter. Wheh! Shakespeare certainly demonstrates his skill as a dramatist in this last scene. Fidele turns out to be Imogen, who was only thought dead due to the Queen’s drug. Iachimo confesses his role in all of the confusion he wrought after betting to violate Imogen and then making Posthumus believe he had been successful. Once Imogen reveals herself Belarius and sons understand why they thought her to be dead. Belarius informs the King that these boys are really his son and Imogen’s brother. Once everything is reconciled we might still wonder why Imogen embraces Posthumus, although he does regain a certain degree of admiration in this final scene. Shakespeare’s best women so often marry beneath their station, aside from several wicked queens, such as we had here. This final scenes dazzles us with its layers of revelations and resolutions. Regardless of how we might assess the play as a whole, it always seems a worthy venture once we close out this final impressive scene.

Final Thoughts

No one has suggested that this is one of Shakespeare’s best plays, although Lord Tennyson did choose to have it buried beside him. The heaviness of the plot and the inconsistent language indicates to some critics that Shakespeare had help from a far less talented collaborator. And yet, the characters develop along side one another admirably. The king, his wicked queen, her oaf of a son, Dr Cornelius, Posthumus and Imogen themselves and his loyal servant Pisanio, the treacherous Italian, Iachimo, the noble Roman, Lucius, and the long banished Lord Belarus and his mysteriously missing sons of the King. Imogen is absolutely delightful throughout the play and Posthumus hardly seems deserving of her, as mentioned. Typical, once again of the late Romantic Comedies, there is less depth of character displayed here and more adventure and mystery. You may have to work a bit to follow the plot but act V, scene V makes the journey worth the effort. Teetering on the edge of tragedy, Cymbeline never quite crosses that line. Only the villains die (the Queen and her son, Cloten), Posthumus and Imogen embrace lovingly, the King has his sons returned to him, and even the captured Romans are spared. As King Cymbeline states, ‘pardon’s the word to all’, and this extends even to Shakespeare.

In 1608 members of Shakespeare’s theatre company purchased the indoor Blackfriars theatre, which could easily put on spectacular theatricalities, the likes of which we bear witness to in these later Romances. Cymbeline was the first play written by the bard for the Blackfriars. The source of this play for Shakespeare was the ever familiar Chronicles by Holinshed. The earliest production that we hear of is in September of 1611. We know that it was presented before King Charles I on 1 January, 1634. After that are various adaptations, with such titles as ‘The Injured Princess’ and ‘The Fatal Wager’. The next actual Cymbeline production is not until 1746 in Covent Gardens. The play became quite popular in the 19th century, mostly on account of the character of Imogen. In the 20th century large theatre companies, such as we find in Stratford upon Avon, The Winter Garden, The Old Vic and Covent Gardens, made Cymbeline a regular part of their repertoire. It requires elaborate staging and therefore beyond these large production companies, Cymbeline is not often presented. As usual, Youtube has a wealth of theatrical and film productions, endless clips and much analysis.

Pericles, Prince of Tyre

Introduction

Pericles, our hero, must flee for his life from a wicked king who wants him killed for revealing a dark secret. As he wanders the world he relieves a famine in Tarsus and wins a beautiful princess for his wife in Pentapolis, but then seemingly loses his wife in a terrible storm at sea. Unbeknownst to him when her casket is washed ashore she is revived for a later unexpected reconciliation. Then he leaves his new born daughter with apparent friends in order to resume his travels. Fourteen years pass and his daughter is nearly murdered, captured by pirates and sold to a brothel. Pericles believes, like his wife, his daughter is dead. Enduring utter despair, he is eventually reunited with his daughter and later his wife.

Pericles was likely a collaborative work between Shakespeare and George Wilkins, considered by many to be something of an unsavoury hack, and who evidently wrote the first two acts, making it somewhat of an uneven work. It is suggested that Shakespeare sketched the first two acts and instructed Wilkins to write them. They may have been tight on time, as the season approached and the play was needed as soon as possible. Alternatively, it is possible that it is all Shakespeare and the actor / editor who recalled the first two acts did not recall very well compared to the actor /editor who pieced together the final three acts. When act three begins Shakespeare’s authentic voice is astounding, as he rails at the stormy sea, like nothing at all resembling the first two acts. Some of the finest writing of his career appears in the final three acts of this play. Pericles was one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays during his lifetime, having to be repeatedly reprinted. It is the first of his late romances and a story of adventure about a hero who suffers miserably only to overcome the odds and emerge triumphant. The romances were controversial, as many critics thought they revealed that his finest work was behind him and what was left was a mere shell of the talent displayed in his great tragedies. Yet others see these plays as the height of his theatrical prowess, with brilliant displays of imaginative and poetic genius. There are great spectacles here, including a tyrant of a king, acts of incest, a wicked stepmother, shipwrecks, pirates, gods, magic, brothels, the loss of a spouse and a child, deprivation, suffering, a miraculous resurgence and rebirth, and finally, a double reconciliation. Much of the thematic designs in Pericles also appear in the later romances. For instance, the resurrection of his wife, Thaisa, corresponds to the coming to life of Hermione’s statue in A Winter’s Tale. The lost daughter, exposed to danger and then found again, who helps to reconcile her parents, also reappears in A Winter’s tale. The storms in Pericles have a counterpart in The Tempest. Dionyza, the wicked step-mother will be resurrected in the second wife of Cymbeline. The degree of evil is displayed again in Cymbeline, A Winter’s Tale and The Tempest. The passage of many years will be presented yet again in A Winter’s Tale. Clearly Pericles creates the basic framework on which the later romances will be constructed. Perhaps more than any other Shakespeare genre, the romances are meant to be seen and not simply read. In Pericles, the plot moves wildly in both time and space, with a host of different settings reflecting the desperate travels of our hero fleeing danger and mourning his losses. This is essentially the story of good man moving from despair to happiness and the mood and style is that of a fairy tale. The brothel scene and the magical reconciliations with his daughter are vintage Shakespeare. This is a wondrous and sophisticated play once it is in Shakespeare’s more than capable hands. It is spellbinding and full of resonances, at one and the same time hard to believe but completely true in its magical spirit and evocative staging.

Act I (Prologue and 4 scenes)

Prologue

Gower: “To sing a song that old was sung, from ashes ancient Gower has come, to gold your ears and please your eyes. It has been sung at festivals, and lords and ladies in their lives have read it for restoratives. This Antioch then, Antiochus the Great, built up this city for his chiefest seat. This king took up a wife, who died and left a female heir, so buxom and full of face, as heaven had lent her all his grace, with whom the father liking took, and her to incest did provoke. Bad child! Worse father! To entice his own to evil should be done by none. The beauty of this sinful dame made many princes hither frame to seek her as a bed fellow, in marriage-pleasures play-fellow; which to prevent he made a law – to keep her still, and men in awe – that who so asked her for his wife, his riddle told not, lost his life; so for her many did die. What now ensues to the judgment of your eye I give, my cause who best can justify.” (exit)

Summary and Analysis

John Gower offers a prologue to each act of Pericles. In the 13th century, the medieval poet Gower re-worked the 2nd century story ‘The Adventures of Apollonius of Tyre’. It was Gower’s retelling of this ancient classic that Shakespeare used to write the play, along with his collaborator’s novel, ‘The Painful Adventures of Pericles, Prince of Tyre’ (1608), which explains the choice of George Wilkins as his partner in the rendering of this piece in 1609. In this first prologue Gower, who comes out in medieval clothing, explains to the audience that after Antiochus’s wife died he became sexually involved with his very attractive daughter. ‘Bad child! Worse father!’ Many princes came from far and wide to marry her but they were required to solve a riddle correctly or die. Naturally, since the riddle properly understood would expose their incest, to get it right would mean death as well. In this way their incest continues.

Act I (4 scenes)

Scene i

Antioch. The Palace.

Enter Antiochus, Pericles and others.

Antiochus: “Young Prince of Tyre, you have at large received the danger of the task you undertake.”

Pericles: “I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul emboldened with the glory of her praise think death no hazard in this enterprise.”

Antiochus: “Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride. Nature this dowry gave to glad her presence: the senate-house of planets all did sit, to knit in her their best perfections.”

Enter the king’s daughter

Pericles: “See where she comes, apparelled like the spring, gracing her subjects. Her face, the book of praises, where is read nothing but curious pleasures. You gods who made me man, and sway in love, who have enflamed desire in my breast to taste the fruit of yonder celestial tree, or die in the adventure, as I am son and servant to your will, to compass such a boundless happiness!”

Antiochus: “Prince Pericles -“

Pericles: “Who would be son to great Antiochus.”

Antiochus: “Before thee stands this golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched; for death-like dragons here affright thee hard. Her face, like heaven, entices thee to view her countless glory. Yonder sometimes famous princes, like thyself, drawn by report, adventurous by desire, tell thee, with speechless tongues, that here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid’s wars; and with dead cheeks advise thee to desist.”

Pericles: “Antiochus, I thank thee, who has taught my frail mortality to know itself. I’ll make my will then.” (to the princess) “But my unspotted fire of love to you is thus ready for the way of life or death, and I await the sharpest blow.”

Antiochus: “Scorning advice then, read the conclusion, which read and not expounded, thou shall bleed.”

Daughter: “May thou prove prosperous. I wish thee happiness!”

Antiochus: “Read the riddle.”

Pericles: “‘I am no viper, yet I feed on mother’s flesh which did me breed. I sought a husband, in which labour I found that kindness in a father. He’s father, son and husband mild; I, mother, wife and yet his child. How they may be, and yet in two, as you will live, resolve it you.'” (aside) “If this be true, it makes me pale to read it. I must tell you now my thoughts revolt. Good sooth, I care not for you.”

Antiochus: “Prince Pericles, your time has expired: either expound now or receive your sentence.”

Pericles: “Great king, few love to hear the sins they love to act; it would braid yourself to near for me to tell it. Who has a book of all that monarchs do, he’s more secure to keep it shut than shown; for vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in other’s eyes, to spread itself; and yet the end of all is bought thus dear. Kings are earth’s gods; in vice their law’s their will. It is fit to smother it.”

Antiochus: (aside) “Heaven, he has found the meaning -” “Young Prince of Tyre, though by the tenor of our strict edict, your exposition misinterpreting, we might proceed to cancel your days; yet hope does tune us otherwise. Forty days longer we do respite you; if by which time our secret be undone, this mercy shows we’ll joy in such a son.”

Exit all but Pericles

Pericles: “How courtesy would seem to cover sin, when what is done is like a hypocrite, the which is good in nothing but in sight! If it be true that I interpret false, then were it certain you were not so bad as with foul incest to abuse your soul where now you’re both a father and a son by your untimely claspings with your child – which pleasure fits a husband, not a father – as she an eater of her mother’s flesh by the dealing of her parent’s bed; and both like serpents are, who, though they feed on sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. Antioch, farewell! For wisdom sees those men blush not in actions blacker than the night will shun no course to keep them from the light. One sin I know another does provoke: murder is as near to lust as flame to smoke. Poison and treason are the hands of sin, ay, and the targets to put off the shame. Then, lest my life be cropped to keep you clear, by flight I’ll shun the danger which I fear.” (exit)

Enter Antiochus

Antiochus: “He has found the meaning, for which we mean to have his head. He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, nor tell the world Antiochus does sin in such a loathed manner; and therefore instantly this prince must die; for by his fall my honour must keep high.”

Enter Thalliard

Thalliard: “Does your highness call?”

Antiochus: “Thalliard, you are of our chamber, and our mind partakes her private actions to your secrecy; and for your faithfulness we will advance you. Thalliard, behold here’s poison and here’s gold; we hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him. It fits thee not to ask the reason why, because we bid it. Say, is it done?”

Thalliard: “My lord, tis done.”

Antiochus: “Enough.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “My lord, Prince Pericles has fled.”

Antiochus: (to Thalliad) “As thou will live, fly after; never return unless thou say Prince Pericles is dead.”

Exit Thalliard

Summary and Analysis

Pericles chooses to risk his life to win the daughter of King Antiochus, knowing that answering the riddle incorrectly means his death. When Pericles reads the riddle he immediately realizes that Antiochus and his daughter are incestuous. When pressed for an answer to the riddle Pericles insists it is a truth better not acknowledged, and Antiochus knows that Pericles has solved it but nonetheless insists his answer is incorrect and that he must remain near the court to be sentenced in forty days. Pericles smartly decides to flee Antioch immediately as the king orders Thalliard, one of his lords, to poison him. Once they discover Pericles has fled, Thalliard is told to pursue him and never to return home until he is dead. So begins the trials of Pericles. He will endure much hardship until heroically prevailing in the end. That is the formula for a romance. And Shakespeare has set our hero on his journey of endurance right in the first scene of the play.

Act I

Scene ii

Tyre. The Palace.

Enter Pericles

Pericles: “Why should this sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, be my so used a guest, in the day’s glorious walk or peaceful night? Here pleasures court my eyes, and my eyes shun them, and danger, which I feared, is at Antioch. Then it is thus: the great Antiochus – against whom I am too little to contend, since he can make his will his act – will think me speaking, though I swear to silence. If he suspects I may dishonour him, and what may make him blush in being known, with hostile forces he’ll over-spread the land.”

Enter Helicanus and other lords

Pericles: “What sees thou in our looks?”

Helicanus: “An angry brow, dread lord.”

Pericles: “What would thou have me do?”

Helicanus: “To bear with patience such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself.”

Pericles: “Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, where, as thou knows, against the face of death, I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty. Her face was to my eye beyond all wonder; the rest – hark in thine ear – as black as incest; which by my knowledge found, the sinful father seemed not to strike. But thou knows this, tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. Which fear so grew in me I hither fled under the cover of a careful night. I knew him tyrannous; and tyrant’s fears decrease not, but grow faster than the years; and should he doubt it, as no doubt he does, that I should open to the listening air how many worthy princes bloods were shed to keep his bed of blackness unlaid open, to lop that doubt, he’ll find this land with arms, and make pretence of wrong that I have done him.”

Helincanus: “Alas, sir.”

Pericles: “Drew sleep out of my eyes, blood from my cheeks, musings into my mind, with thousand doubts how I might stop this tempest ere it came.”

Helincanus: “Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak, freely will I speak. Antioch you fear, and justly too. I think you fear the tyrant, who either by public war or private treason will take away your life. Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while til that his rage and anger be forgot, or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life.”

Pericles: “Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tharsus intend my travel, where I’ll hear from thee; and by whose letters I’ll dispose myself. The care I had on thee I lay, whose wisdom’s strength can bear it. I’ll take thy word for faith.”

Summary and Analysis

Pericles is back in Tye but fears Antiochus will come and kill him. His counsellor, Helicanus, hears Pericles’ story and suggests he leave Tyre before the tyrant can get at him. Pericles decides to go to Tharsus and leave Helicanus in charge of Tyre in his absence. He is deeply affected by what he believes is the threat to his life, having unearthed Antiochus’ terrible secret. He can no longer remain in his home of Tyre and must wander the world until he is sure it is safe to return. And yet his journey has just begun.

Act I

Scene iii

Tyre. The palace.

Enter Thalliard.

Thalliard: “So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to be hanged at home. Tis dangerous.”

Enter Helicanus and other lords

Helicanus: “You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, further to question me of your king’s departure. His sealed commission, left in trust with me, does speak sufficiently that he’s gone to travel.”

Thalliard: (aside) “How! The king gone!”

Helicanus: “If further yet you will be satisfied why, I’ll give some light unto you. Being at Antioch -“

Thalliard: (aside) “What from Antioch?”

Helicanus: “Royal Antiochus, on what cause I know not, took some displeasure at him.”

Thalliard: (aside) “Well, he escaped the land to perish at the seas. I’ll present myself – Peace to the lords of Tyre!”

Helicanus: “Lord Thailand from Antioch is welcome.”

Thalliard: “With him I come with message unto princely Pericles; but since my landing I have understood your lord has betook himself to unknown travels.”

Helicanus: “Ere you shall depart, this we desire – as friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre.”

Summary and Analysis

The assassin, Thalliard, arrives in Tyre to murder Pericles, just as Pericles suspected. However, he overhears the lords of Tyre discussing Pericles travelling at sea, and fearing for his life, he decides to return and tell Antiochus that Pericles has perished at sea. It would appear that Thalliard is not the most determined of assassins.

Act I

Scene iv

Tharsus. The governor’s house

Enter Cleon (the governor) and Dionyza, his wife

Cleon: “My Dionyza, shall we, by relating the tales of others’ griefs, see if it will teach us to forget our own?”

Dionyza: “That were to blow on a fire in the hopes of quenching it. O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are!”

Cleon: “O Dionyza, this Tharsus, over which I have the government, a city whose towers bore heads so high they kissed the clouds, and strangers never beheld but wondered at; their tables were stored full and all poverty was scorned.”

Dionyza: “O, tis too true.”

Cleon: “But see what heaven can do! These mouths are now starved for want of exercise. Those palates would now be glad of bread, and beg for it. Those mothers are ready now to eat those little darlings whom they loved. So sharp are hunger’s teeth that man and wife draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life. Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; Here many sink, yet those who see them fall have scarce strength left to give them burial.”

Dionyza: “Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it.”

Enter a lord

Lord: “We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, a portly sail of ships make hitherward.”

Cleon: “I thought as much. Some neighbouring nation, taking advantage of our misery, has stuffed the hollow vessels with their power to beat us down, the which are down already, and make a conquest of unhappy me.”

Lord: “By the semblance of their white flags displayed, they bring us peace, and come to us as favourers, not as foes.”

Cleon: “Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. But bring they what they will, what need we fear? Our ground is the lowest. Welcome is peace; if wars, we are unable to resist.”

Enter Pericles

Pericles: “Lord Governor, for so we hear you are, we have heard your miseries far as Tyre, and seen the desolation of your streets; nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, but to relieve them of their heavy load; and these our ships you may think are like the Trojan horse, stuffed within with bloody veins, expecting overthrow, are stored with corn to make your needy bread, and give them life whom hunger starved half dead.”

Cleon: “The gods of Greece protect you! We will pray for you.”

Pericles: “We do not look for reverend, but for love, and harbourage for ourself, our ships and our men.”

Cleon: “Your grace is welcome to our town and us.”

Pericles: “Which welcome we’ll accept; feast here awhile, until our stars that frown lend us a smile.”

Summary and Analysis

Cleon, the King of Tharsus, and his wife, Dionyza, are enduring a devastating famine when they learn that ships are arriving in their harbour. Fearing that hostile nations have arrived to take advantage of their plight and to conquer them, they soon learn that it is Pericles, who arrives in peace, with food and supplies to relieve the famine. In exchange he only wants to be able to remain safely in Tharsus for a time, ‘until our stars that frown lend us a smile.’ Tharsus and its rulers will soon play an important role in our play. Reminder that these first two acts were likely written by John Wilkins. They do well to advance the plot to where Shakespeare, in act III, can soar with the character development and linguistic dexterity we have come to expect.

Act II (5 scenes)

Prologue

Enter Gower

Gower: “Here have you seen a mighty king his child to incest bring and a better prince and benign lord. Good Helicanus, who stayed at home, strove to kill the bad and keep good alive; and to fulfil his prince’s desire, sends word how Thalliard came full bent with sin and had intent to murder him; and that Tharsus was no longer best for him to make his rest. So he put forth to sea, where there is seldom ease; for now the winds begin to blow; thunder above and deeps below making such unquiet that the ship that should house him is wrecked and split; and he, good prince, having all lost, by waves from coast to coast is tossed. All perished the men and naught escaped but himself, till fortune, tired with doing bad, threw him ashore, to give him glad. And here he comes. What shall be next?”

Summary and Analysis

Gower returns to remind us that we have thus far encountered a very bad king and a very good prince and that Thalliard had indeed come to Tyre with the intent to kill Pericles but has himself been killed by Helicanus, so that it is safe for Pericles to return home. But the seas and the wind have other plans and his ships are torn apart in a storm and only he survives, being washed ashore near Pentapolis. ‘What shall be next’ indeed! Gower performs a pantomime, or a dumb show, acting out with gestures most of what he has to tell us. Pericles has thus far escaped with his life from Antioch’s incestuous king, has survived a murder attempt in his home of Tyre and is the only person alive following a terrible storm at sea. And this is merely the beginning of act two! O, these romances!

Act I

Scene i

Pentapolis. An open place by the sea.

Enter Pericles, wet.

Pericles: “Cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain and thunder, remember earthly man is but a substance who must yield to you; alas, the sea has cast me on the rocks; nothing to think about but ensuing death. Let it suffice the greatness of your powers to have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; and having thrown him from your watery grave, here to have death in peace is all he’ll crave.”

Enter three fishermen

2 Fisherman: “Come and bring away the nets.”

1 Fisherman: “What say you?”

3 Fisherman: “I am thinking of the poor men who were cast away before us even now.”

1 Fisherman: “Alas, poor souls! It grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, we could scarce help ourselves.”

3 Fisherman: “I marvel how the fish live in the sea.”

1 Fisherman: “Why, as men do on land – the great ones eat up the little ones. I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale. Such whales I have heard on the land, who never leave going till they have swallowed the whole parish, church, steeples, bells and all.”

Pericles: (aside) “A pretty moral. How from the finny subject of the sea these fishermen tell the infirmities of men. Peace by at your labour, honest fishermen.”

2 Fisherman: “Honest – good fellow! If it be a day that fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, and nobody look after it. What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way!”

Pericles: “What I have been I forgot to know; but what I am: a man thronged up with cold; my veins are chilled and have no more of life than may suffice to give my tongue that heat to ask your help; which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, for that I am a man, pray see me buried.”

1 Fisherman: “Now gods forbid it. I have a gown here! Come, put it on; keep thee warm. Thou shall go home, and we’ll have fish, and moreover pudding and flapjacks; and thou shall be welcome.”

Pericles: “I thank you, sir.” (aside) “How well this honest mirth becomes their labour!”

1 Fisherman: “Hark you, sir; do you know where you are?”

Pericles: “Not well.”

1 Fisherman: “Why, I’ll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our king the good Simonides. He deserves so to be called this for his peaceable reign and good government. And I’ll tell you, he has a fair daughter, and tomorrow is her birthday, and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to joust and tourney for her love.”

Pericles: “Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there.”

2 Fisherman: “Help, master, help! Here’s a fish hangs in the net like a poor man’s rights in the law; t’will hardly come out. Tis come at last, and tis turned into a rusty armour.”

Pericles: “An armour, friends! I pray you let me see it. Thanks, fortune, yet, after all my crosses, thou gives me somewhat to repair myself; it was part of my heritage which my dead father did bequeath to me, with this strict charge, even as he left his life: ‘Keep it, my Pericles. It has been a shield twixt me and death. May it defend thee.’ It kept where I kept, so I dearly loved it; till the rough seas, that spare not any man, took it in rage. I thank thee for it. My shipwreck now is no ill, since I have here my father’s gift. Guide me to your sovereign’s court, where with it I may appear a gentleman.”

1 Fisherman: “Why, will thou tourney for the lady?”

Pericles: “Believe it, I will. By your furtherance I am clothed in steel.”

2 Fisherman: “I’ll bring thee to the court myself.”

Summary and Analysis

Pericles climbs ashore and encounters three fishermen. He asks for their help and they kindly assist him and tell him that he is in the kingdom of Pentapolis, ruled by the benevolent King Simonides, whose daughter is celebrating a birthday where princes and knights from around the world will compete for her love. Pericles wishes to join them. Miraculously, the fishermen have pulled up armour from their nets and it turns out to be that of Pericles’ father. He wears it proudly. This is yet another kingdom Pericles travels through and this one will change his life forever.

Act II

Scene ii

Pentapolis. A public way.

Enter Simonides and Thaisa, his daughter, with lords.

Simonides: “Are the knights ready to begin the triumph?

1 Lord: “They are, my liege.”

Simonides: “My daughter here, in honour of her birth, will entertain the labour of each knight in his device. Who is the first who does prefer himself?”

Thaisa: “A knight of Sparta, my renowned father.”

Simonides: “Who is the second who presents himself?”

Thaisa: “A prince of Macedon, my royal father.”

Simonides: “And what’s the third?”

Thaisa: “The third of Antioch.”

Simonides: “What is the fourth?”

Thaisa: “A burning torch that’s turned upside down. The fifth is holding out gold.”

Simonides: “And what’s the sixth and last?”

Thaisa: “He seems to be a stranger; but his present is a withered branch.”

Simonides: “From the dejected state wherein he is, he hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish.”

2 Lord: “He comes to an honoured triumph strongly furnished.”

Simonides: “Opinion is but a fool, that makes us scan the outward habit for the inward man.”

Summary and Analysis

The king and his daughter watch as each of the six knights go by in their finest armour. And then comes Pericles in the rusted armour that was just fished out of the sea. The lords make fun of him but the king scolds them for judging the inner man by his outer look. This is not the first contest Pericles has entered for the daughter of a princess. However, this good King Simonides could not be more different from the evil King Antiochus. There is no incest here and death does not haunt the many suitors.

Act II

Scene iii

Pentapolis. A hall of state. A banquet is prepared.

Enter King Simonides, Thaisa, lords, knights and attendants.

Simonides: “Knights! Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast; you are princes and my guests.”

Thaisa: (to Pericles) “But to you, my knight and guest, this wreath of victory I give, and crown you king of this day’s happiness.”

Pericles: “Tis more by fortune, lady, than my merit.”

Simonides: “Call it by what you will, the day is yours, and here I hope is none who envies it. You are her laboured scholar.”

Pericles: “Some other is more fit.”

Thaisa: (aside) “By Juno, the queen of marriage, all that I eat does seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat. To me he seems like diamond to glass. Now, by the gods, he could not please me better.”

Simonides: “Tell him we desire to know of him of whence he is, his name and parentage.”

Pericles: “I am a gentleman of Tyre. My name is Pericles. My education has been in the arts and in arms, who, looking for adventure in the world, was by the rough sea reft of ships and men, and after shipwreck driven upon this shore.”

Simonides: “Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, and will awaken him from his melancholy. Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well” (to Pericles) “but you the best.” “Pages, conduct these knights unto their several lodgings” (to Pericles) “yours, sir, we have given order to be next to ours.”

Pericles: “I am your Grace’s pleasure.”

Summary and Analysis

At the banquet both father and daughter congratulate Pericles for having won the tournament. They both appear thoroughly taken by Pericles. ‘You are her laboured scholar’ says the king. Princess Thaisa is a bit more graphic: ‘all that I eat does seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat.’ Goodness, Will!

Act II

Scene iv

Tyre. The governor’s house.

Enter Helicanus and Escanes

Helicanus: “Know this of me – Antiochus from incest lived not free, nor his daughter with him, and due to his heinous capital offence, a fire from heaven came and shrivelled up their bodies, even to loathing. And yet for justice.”

Enter three lords

1 Lord: “Lord Helicanus, a word. Know that our griefs are risen to the top and now overflow their banks.”

Helicanus: “Your griefs! For what?”

1 Lord: “If the prince do live, let us salute him. If in the world he lives, we’ll seek him out; if in his grave he rests, we’ll find him there.”

2 Lord: “And knowing this kingdom, if without a head, will soon fall to ruin, your noble self we thus submit unto – our sovereign. Live, noble Helicanus!”

Helicanus: “Forbear your suffrages. If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear. A twelvemonth longer let me entreat you to forbear the absence of your king; if in which time he not return, I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. Then you love us, and we you, and we’ll clasp hands: when peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.”

Summary and Analysis

We learn from Helicanus that a fire from heaven burnt to a crisp Antiochus and his daughter as a punishment for their incest. Lords of Tyre fear that Pericles is dead and wish to crown Helicanus, who instructs them to wait twelve months before giving up on the return of Pericles, who, as we know, is alive and well, and now has nothing to fear from Antioch.

Act II

Scene v

Pentapolis. The palace.

Enter Simonides, reading a letter. The knights meet him.

Simonides: “Knights, from my daughter this I let you know, that for this twelvemonth she’ll not undertake a married life. Her reason is to herself only known, which from her by no means can I get.”

2 Knight: “May we not gain access to her, my lord?”

Simonides: “Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied herself to her chamber that it is impossible.”

3 Knight: “We take our leaves.”

Exit the knights

Simonides: (aside) “So, they are well dispatched. Now to my daughter’s letter. She tells me here she’ll wed the stranger knight. Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine; I like that well. I do commend her choice, and will no longer have it be delayed.”

Enter Pericles

Pericles: “All fortune to the good Simonides!”

Simonides: “To you as much, sir. Let me ask you one thing: what do you think of my daughter, sir?”

Pericles: “A most virtuous princess.”

Simonides: “And she is fair too, is she not?”

Pericles: “Wondrous fair.”

Simonides: “Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you; ay, so well that you must be her master, and she will be your scholar.”

Pericles: “I am unworthy to be her schoolmaster.”

Simonides: “She thinks not so; peruse this writing else.”

Pericles: (aside) “What’s here? A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre. Tis the king’s subtlety to have my life – O seek not to entrap me , gracious lord, a stranger and distressed gentleman that never aimed so high to love your daughter, but bent all offices to honour her.”

Simonides: “Thou has bewitched my daughter, and thou art a villain.”

Pericles: “By the gods, I have not. Nor never did my actions yet commence a deed that might gain her love or your displeasure.”

Simonides: “Traitor, thou lies.”

Pericles: “Traitor!”

Simonides: “Ay, traitor.” (aside) “Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage.”

Pericles: “My actions are as noble as my thoughts. I came unto your court for honour’s cause, and he who otherwise accounts of me, this sword shall prove he’s honour’s enemy.”

Simonides: “Here comes my daughter; she can witness it.”

Enter Thaisa

Pericles: “Then, as you are virtuous as fair, resolve your angry father if my tongue did ever solicit, or my hand subscribe to any syllable that made love to you.”

Thaisa: “Why sir, say if you had, who takes offence that which would make me glad?”

Simonides: (aside) “I am glad with all my heart.” “Will you, not having my consent, bestow your love and your affections upon a stranger? Therefore, hear you, mistress, either frame your will to mine – and you, sir, hear you – or I will make you man and wife. Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too. Are you both pleased?”

Thaisa: “Yes, if you love me, sir.”

Pericles: “Even as my life fosters it.”

Simonides: “Ae you both agreed?”

Both: “Yes, if it pleases your majesty.”

Simonides: “I pleases me so well that I will see you wed: and then, with what haste you can, get you to bed.”

Summary and Analysis

Once King Simonides dispatches the other knights, he turns to consider the letter his daughter has written declaring that she wishes to marry Pericles. He admits that he agrees with her choice entirely but then tests Pericles’ mettle and resolve by accusing him of having bewitched his daughter. He calls him a traitor but at the same time commends him for his courage in holding up so well under scrutiny. Thaisa arrives and states that she would have been glad if he had advanced his cause upon her. The king concludes his ruse and enthusiastically agrees to have them married. Everyone is very well pleased and the king concludes by telling them to marry and with haste ‘get you to bed’. Pericles has behaved honourably and has won over both the king and his daughter. His adventures continue! And so concludes the first two acts written by George Wilkins. The difference is immediately noticeable in the first scene that follows.

Act III (4 scenes)

Prologue

Enter Gower

Gower: “Of this most pompous marriage feast, the cat now crouches before the mouse’s hole; hymen has brought the bride to bed, where by the loss of maidenhead, a babe is moulded. At last from Tyre, to the court of King Simonides, are letters brought, the tenor these: Antiochus and his daughter dead, the men of Tyrus on the head of Helicanus would set the crown of Tyre, but he will none. The mutiny he there hastens to oppress. He says to them, if King Pericles come not home in twice six moons, he will take the crown. Brief, Pericles must hence depart to Tyre. His queen with child makes her desire to go. And so to sea. Their vessel shakes and up and down the poor ship drives. The lady shrieks with her fear. On this stage, upon the deck, the sea-tossed Pericles appears to speak”

Summary and Analysis

Gower informs us that, having heard of the death of Antiochus and his daughter, and of the restlessness of the lords of Tyre, Pericles and his pregnant wife are on a ship heading home. However, a storm threatens to destroy the ship. Shakespeare’s language commences here:

Act III

Scene i

Enter Pericles, shipboard

Pericles: “Thou gods of this great vast, rebuke these surges, which wash both heaven and hell. O, still thy deafening dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble sulphurous flashes! How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously. Will thou split thyself?”

Enter their nurse, Lychorida with infant

Lychorida: “Here is a thing too young for such a place, who, if it had conceit, would die, as I am like to do. Take in your arms the piece of your dead queen. Here is all that is living of her, a little daughter. For the sake of it, be manly and take comfort.”

Pericles: “O, you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, and then snatch them straight away? A more blusterous birth had never a babe. Thou has as chiding a nativity as fire, air, water, earth and heaven can make, to herald thee from the womb.”

Enter two sailors

1 Sailor: “What courage, sir? God save you!”

Pericles: “Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw; it has done to me the worst. Yet for the love of this poor infant, this fresh new sea-fearer, I would it would be quiet.”

1 Sailor: “Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead.”

Pericles: “That’s your superstition.”

1 Sailor: “We are strong in custom. Therefore she must overboard straight.”

Pericles: “Most wretched queen! A terrible childbirth has thou had, my dear; The unfriendly elements forgot thee utterly; nor have I time to give thee hallowed to thy grave, but straight must cast thee, scarcely coffined, in the ooze; where, for a monument upon thy bones, the belching whale and humming water must overwhelm thy corpse, lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, bring me ink and paper and lay the babe upon the pillow, while I say a priestly farewell to her.”

2 Sailor: “Sir, we have a chest, beneath the hatches, caulked and ready.”

Pericles: “I thank thee, mariner.”

2 Sailor: “We are near Tarsus.”

Pericles: “O, Make for Tharsus! There I will visit Cleon, for the babe cannot hold out to Tyre; there I will leave it at careful nursing.”

Summary and Analysis

Pericles is caught up in yet another storm on his way home to Tyre with his very pregnant wife. During the tempest, the nurse comes to him with a baby girl and news that his wife did not survive childbirth. Her body is placed in a coffin and she is set adrift at sea. Meanwhile, the ship cannot make it to Tyre and will land in Tharsus, where he will leave the infant with Cleon and Dionyza, whom he befriended earlier. The separation from his ‘apparently’ dead wife and his daughter is necessary if there is to be a later reconciliation. But the worst of his misadventures still lie ahead.

Act III

Scene ii

Ephesus. Cerimon’s house.

Enter Cerimon with a servant

Cerimon: ” Philemon, ho!”

Enter Philemon

Philemon: “Does my lord call?”

Cerimon: “Get fire and meat for these poor men. It has been a turbulent and stormy night.”

Servant: “Such a night as this, til now I never endured.”

Enter two servants with a chest.

Cerimon: “What’s that?”

1 Servant: “Sir, even now did the sea toss up upon our shore this chest. Tis of some wreck.”

Cerimon: “Let’s look upon it.”

2 Servant: “Tis like a coffin, sir.”

Cerimon: “Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight. It smells most sweetly. O you most potent gods! What’s here? A corpse, shrouded in a cloth of state.”

1 Servant: “Most strange!”

Cerimon: ” (reads from a scroll) ‘If ever this coffin drives a land, I, King Pericles, have lost this queen. Who finds her, give her burial; she was the daughter of a king.’ They were too rough, who threw her in the sea. Look how fresh she looks! Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. Death may usurp on nature many hours, and yet the fire of life kindles again the oppressed spirits. I heard of an Egyptian who had nine hours been dead, who was by good appliance recovered. I pray you, give her air, gentlemen; this queen will live; nature awakes; a warmth breathes out of her. See how she begins to blow into life’s flower again. She is alive. Behold her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels which Pericles has lost, begin to part. Live, and make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, rare as you seem to be. (she moves)

Thaisa: “O dear Diana, where am I? Where is my lord? What world is this?”

2 Servant: “Is not this strange?”

1 Servant: “Most rare!”

Cerimon: “To the next chamber bear her.”

Summary and Analysis

Miracle of miracles! Thaisa is alive! A coffin like chest has washed ashore in Ephesus, within which appears to be a corpse. Cerimon determines that the person is alive and revives Thaisa, who wonders where in the world she is. Dramatic events abound in the romances and already Pericles has encountered incest, escaped murder, relieved a famine, survived two separate tempests, won a bride, became a father, lost a wife, who now suddenly, unbeknownst to him, turns out to be alive. And there is so much more to come!

Act III

Scene iii

Tharsus. Cleon’s house.

Enter Pericles, Cleon and Dionyza

Pericles: “Most honoured Cleon, I must needs be gone; Tyre stands in a litigious peace. We cannot but obey the powers above us. Could I range and roar as does the sea she lies in, yet the end must be as it is. My gentle babe, Marina, whom, for she was born at sea, I have named so, here I charge your charity withal, leaving her the infant in your care; beseeching you to give her princely training, that she may be mannered as she is born.”

Cleon: “Fear not, my lord, but think your grace, who fed my country with your corn, must in your child be thought on.”

Pericles: “I believe you; till she be married, unscissored shall this hair of mine remain. So I take my leave. Good madam, make me blessed in your care in bringing up my child.”

Dionyza: “I have one myself, who shall not be more dear to my respect than yours, my lord.”

Pericles: “Madam, my thanks and prayers.”

Summary and Analysis

Act III

Scene iv

Ephesus. Cerimon’s house.

Enter Cerimon and Thaisa.

Cerimon: “Madam, this letter lay with you in your coffin. Know you the character?”

Thaisa: “It is my lord’s. But since King Pericles, my wedded lord, I shall never see again, a vestal livery will I take me to, and never more have joy.”

Cerimon: “Madam, if this you purpose as you speak, Diana’s temple is not distant far.”

Summary and Analysis

Cerimon shows Thaisa a letter that was in the coffin with her and it is from Pericles, who she believes she will never see again. She decides, therefore, to retreat to Diana’s holy temple to live out her life. Neither Pericles or Thaisa believe they will ever be together again, which only makes the eventual reconciliation scenes even better.

Act IV

Prologue

Enter Gower

Gower: “Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre, welcomed and settled to his own desire. He woeful queen we leave at Ephesus, unto Diana there. Now to Marina bend your mind, whom our fast-growing scene must find at Tharsus, and by Cleon trained in music, letters; who has gained of education all the grace, which makes her both the heart and place of general wonder. But, alack, that monster envy, Marina’s life seeks to take off by treason’s knife. And in this kind has our Cleon one daughter, and a wench full grown, for certain in our story, she would ever with Marina be. This Philoten contends in skill with absolute Marina. Marina gets all praises, which are paid as debts, and not as given. That Cleon’s wife, with envy rare, a present murderer does prepare for good Marina, that her daughter might stand peerless by this slaughter. Lychorida, our nurse, is dead and cursed Dionyza has pressed for this blow. Dionyza, does appear, with Leonine, a murderer.”

Summary and Analysis

Gower leaps ahead 16 years and provides us an update. Pericles is once again back in Tyre as king. Thaisa is in a nunnery in Ephesus. Pericles has assumed all the while that she perished in that tempest 16 years ago. And his daughter, Marina, has remained with Cleon and Dionyza all these years. However, Dionyza is wildly jealous of Marina’s beauty and poise because she totally outshines her own daughter, Philote. She is actually plotting to murder Marina, despite how Pericles rescued them from famine.

Act IV (6 scenes)

Scene i

Tharsus.

Enter Dionyza and Leonine

Dionyza: “Thy oath remember; thou has sworn to do it. Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou cannot do a thing in the world so soon to yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, which is but cold, inflaming love in thy bosom, inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which even women have cut off, melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.”

Leonine: “I will do it; but yet she is a goodly creature.”

Dionyza: “The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress’ death. Thou art resolved?”

Leonine: “I am resolved.”

Enter Marina, with flowers

The yellows, blues, the purple violets and marigolds, shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave while summer days do last! Ay me! Poor maid, born in a tempest, when my mother died this world is to me like a lasting storm, whirring me from my fiends.”

Dionyza: “How now, Marina! Why do you keep alone? Do not consume our blood with sorrowing; you have a nurse of me. Come, give me your flowers and walk with Leonine. Come, Leonine, take her by the arm and walk with her.”

Marina: “No, I pray you: I’ll not bereave you of your servant.”

Dionyza: “Come, come; I love the king, your father, and we every day expect him here. Go, I pray you, walk, and be cheerful once again.”

Marina: “Well, I will go; yet I have no desire to do it.”

Dionyza: “I know tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least. Remember what I have said.”

Leonine: I warrant you, madam.”

Dionyza: “I’ll leave you, my sweet lady. Pray walk softly.”

Marina: “My thanks, sweet madam.”

Exit Dionyza

Marina: “Is this wind westerly that blows?”

Leonine: “South-west.”

Marina: “When I was born the wind was north.”

Leonine: “Was it so?”

Marina: “Never were rains nor wind more violent.”

Leonine: “Come, say your prayers.”

Marina: “What mean you?”

Leonine: “If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it. Pray, but be not tedious, for the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn to do my work with haste.”

Marina: “Why will you kill me?”

Leonine: “To satisfy my lady.”

Marina: “Why would she have me killed? Now, as I can remember, by my troth, I never did her hurt in all of my life. I never spake a bad word, nor did ill turn to any living creature. Believe me, I never killed a mouse, nor hurt a fly; I trod upon a worm against my will, but I wept for it. How have I offended, wherein my death might yield her any profit, or my life imply her any danger?”

Leonine: “My commission is not to reason of the deed, but do it.”

Marina: “You will not do it for all the world, I hope. You are well-favoured and your looks foreshow you have a gentle heart. Your lady seeks my life; come you between, and save poor me, the weaker.”

Leonine: “I am sworn and will dispatch.”

Leonine seizes Marina

Enter pirates

1 Pirate: “Hold, villain.”

Leonine runs away.

2 Pirate: “A prize. A Prize!”

3 Pirate: “Come, let’s have her aboard suddenly.”

Exit Marina with pirates

Re-enter Leonine

Leonine: “These roguing thieves have seized Marina. Let her go. There’s no hope she will return. I’ll swear she is dead and thrown into the sea. But I’ll see further. Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, not carry her aboard. If she remain, whom they have ravished must by me be slain.”

Summary and Analysis

Dionyza orders her servant, Leonine, to murder Marina. He takes a walk with her and tells her to say her prayers. She has no idea why Dionyza wishes to have her killed. Just as he is about to dispatch her pirates show up and take her on board their ship. Leonine will tell Dionyza that she is dead. This is the second assigned murder not to take place and we can begin to discern a pattern between Marina and her father, Pericles. They each must face a series of trials in order to find one other. A murderer has pursued them both and they have endured storms at sea. They will suffer further indignities, as well. This is also the second mistaken death, as Marina’s mother was also assumed to be dearly departed. Marina has been abducted by pirates, who will not abuse her, but as we shall see next, will sell her to a brothl. Since this is is a romance play, practically anything can happen, like Hermione’s statue coming to life after she was thought dead for 16 years in The Winter’s Tale.

Act IV

Scene ii

Mytilene. A brothel.

Enter Pander, Baud and Boult

Pander: “Boult!”

Boult: “Sir?”

Pander: “Search the market narrowly. Mytilene is full of gallants. We lost too much money by being too wenchless.”

Bawd: “We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten.”

Pander: “Therefore, let’s have fresh ones, whatever we pay for them.”

Boult: “Shall I search the market?”

Bawd: “What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden.”

Pander: “Thou says true; they are too unwholesome.”

Boult: “I’ll go search the market.”

Re-enter Boult with the pirates and Marina

Boult: “My masters, you say she’s a virgin?”

1 Pirate: “O sir, we doubt it not.”

Bawd: “Boult, has she any qualities?”

Boult: “She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes.”

Pander: “Well, follow me, my masters; you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment.”

Baud: “Boult, take you the marks of her – the colour of her hair, complexion, height, her age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry ‘he that shall give most shall have her first’. Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been.”

Boult: “Performance shall follow.”

Marina: “Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow! He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates, not enough barbarous, had not overboard thrown me, for to seek my mother!”

Bawd: “Why lament you, pretty one?”

Marina:”That I am pretty.”

Bawd: “You should live in pleasure.”

Marina: “No.”

Bawd: “Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions. You shall fare well.”

Marina: “Are you a woman?”

Bawd: “What would you have me be?”

Marina: “An honest woman, or not a woman.”

Bawd: “Marry, whip thee, gosling!”

Marina: “The gods defend me.”

Enter Boult

Bawd: “Now, sir, has thou cried about her through the market?”

Boult: “I have drawn her picture with my voice.”

Bawd: “And I prithee tell me how does thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort?”

Boult: “Faith, they listened to me as they would have hearkened to their father’s testament. There was a Spaniard’s mouth so watered that he went to bed to her very description.”

Bawd: “We shall have him here tomorrow.”

Boult: “Tonight, tonight. But, mistress, do you know the French knight? He swore he would see her tomorrow.”

Bawd: (to Marina) “Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit willingly.”

Marina: “I understand you not.”

Boult: “O, take her home, mistress, take her home. These blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice.”

Bawd: “Boult, spend thou that in the town; report what a sojourner we have; when nature framed this piece she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is.”

Boult: “I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awaken the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly inclined. I’ll bring home some tonight.”

Marina: “If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, untied I still my virgin knot will keep. Diana, aid my purpose.”

Bawd: “What have we to do with Diana?”

Summary and Analysis

Baud, Boult and Pander, who run the local brothel in Mytilene, claim they desperately need more women, just as the pirates show up and sell them Marina. Since she is apparently a virgin, they broadcast to the men throughout the town that the highest bidder can have her tomorrow. Marina pleads to Diana to preserve her virginity, but it is not looking good. This brothel scene, and the two more that will soon follow, represent some of Shakespeare’s finest writing. Audiences would have loved to see the common people so depicted while attending this play in the prostitute filled London just outside of their theatre. There is great wit and humour displayed and a terrific opportunity for Shakespeare to advance his profile of Marina the good and Marina the survivor, just like her father.

Act IV

Scene iii

Tharsus. Cleon’s house.

Enter Cleon and Dionyza

Dionyza: “Why are you foolish? Can it be undone?”

Cleon: “O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter the sun and moon never looked upon!”

Dionyza: “I think you’ll turn a child again.’

Cleon: “Were I chief lord of all this spacious world, I’d give it to undo the deed. O, villain Leonine, whom thou has poisoned too. What can thou say when noble Pericles shall demand his child?”

Dionyza: “That she is dead. She died at night, I’ll say. Who can cross it? Unless you play the pious innocent and cry out ‘she died by foul play’.”

Cleon: “O, go too. Well of all the faults beneath the heavens the gods do like this worst.”

Dionyza: “Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, nor none can know. She did disdain my child, and stood between her and her fortunes. None would look on her, bur cast their gaze on Marina’s face; while ours was blurted at, and held not the time of day. It pierced me through. And though you call my course unnatural, you not your child well loving, yet I find it greets me as an enterprise of kindness performed to your sole daughter.”

Cleon: “Heaven forgive it!”

Dionyza: “And as for Pericles, what should he say? We wept after her hearse, and yet we mourn; her monument is almost finished, and her epitaphs in glittering golden characters express a general praise to her, and care in us at whose expense tis one.”

Cleon: “Thou art like the harpy, which, to betray, does, with thine angel’s face, seize with thine eagle’s talons.”

Summary and Analysis

Cleon and Dionyza discuss the apparent murder of Marina. Cleon, who had nothing to do with it, is sickened by it, but Dionyza justifies her actions by claiming that Marina was overshadowing their own daughter. They plan to tell Pericles, who is due to arrive any time soon, that she simply died in the night. They have even erected a monument to Marina and will appear in mourning. These are the people who were saved by Pericles, so it is shameful that Dionyza has committed this act against his daughter. But, again, as with Thaisa, unbeknownst to Pericles, she is not actually dead, but rather has been captured by pirates in Tharsus, and sold into prostitution in Myteline.

Act IV

Scene iv

Before Marina’s monument in Tharsus.

Enter Gower

Gower: “Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; sail seas to take our imagination region to region. I do beseech you to learn of me, who stands in the gaps to teach you the stages of our story. Pericles is now again thwarting the wayward seas, to see his daughter, all his life’s delight. Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought this king to Tharsus to fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. See how belief may suffer from foul show! Pericles, in sorrow all devoured, with sighs shot through and biggest tears over-showered, leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He puts on sackcloth and to sea. He bears a tempest and yet he rides it out. Let Pericles believe his daughter dead, and bear his courses to be ordered by Lady Fortune; while our scene must play his daughter’s weaned heavy well-a-day in her unholy service. Patience, then, and think you are now all in Mytilene.”

Summary and Analysis

Gower reports that Pericles is once again at sea, coming to Tharsus to see his daughter, only to learn from Cleon and Dionyza that she has died. After visiting her monument he departs in a state of permanent mourning. He has crossed the threshold of unbearable torment, having lost both wife and daughter. He becomes a figure like Job, having to endure the unendurable. And yet he endures.

Act IV

Scene v

Mytilene. A street before the brothel.

Enter, from the brothel, two gentlemen.

1 Gentleman: “Did you ever hear the like?”

2 Gentleman: “No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone.”

1 Gentleman: “But to have divinity preached there! Did you ever dream of such a thing?”

2 Gentleman: “No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses. Shall we go and hear the vestals sing?”

1 Gentleman: “I’ll do anything now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever.”

Summary and Analysis

Marina is in the brothel, but every man who visits her is struck by her righteousness and they swear off prostitution and seek religious fulfilment. She is as virtuous as her father in the face of comparable hardships.

Act IV

Scene vi

Mytilene. A room in the brothel

Enter Pander, Bawd and Boult

Pander: “Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had never come here.”

Bawd: “Fie, fie upon her! We must either get her ravished or be rid of her. When she should do for clients and do me the kindness of our profession, she has her master-reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her.”

Boult: “Faith, I must ravish her, or she disfurnish us of all and make our swearers priests.”

Pander: “Now the pox upon her!”

Bawd: “Faith, there’s no way to be rid of it but by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised.”

Enter Lysimachus

Lysimachus:”How now! How a dozen virginities?”

Boult: “I am glad to see your honour is in good health.”

Lysimachus: “What wholesome iniquity have you, that a man may deal withal and defy the surgeon?”

Bad: “We have one here, sir, if she would – but there never came her like in Mytilene.”

Lysimachus: “If she would do the deed of darkness, thou would say. Well, call forth, call forth!”

Bawd: “Here comes that which grows to the stalk, never plucked yet, I can assure you.”

Enter Boult with Marina

Bawd: “Is she not a fair creature?”

Lysimachus: “Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. Well, there’s for you. Leave us.”

Bawd: (aside to Marina) “First, I would have you note this is an honourable man.”

Marina: “I desire to find him so.”

Bawd: “Next, he is the governor of this country, and a man whom I am bound to.”

Marina: “If he govern the country, you are bound to him indeed; but how honourable he is I know not.”

Bawd: “Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold.”

Marina: “What he will do graciously I will thankfully receive.”

Lysimachus: “You done?”

Bawd: “My lord, she’s not paced yet; you must take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her together.”

Lysimachus: “Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade?”

Marina: “What trade, sir?”

Lisimachus: “How long have you been of this profession?”

Marina: “Ever since I can remember.”

Lysimachus: “Did you go to it so young? Were you a gamester at 5 or 7?”

Marina: “Earlier too, sir, if not I be one.”

Lysimachus: “Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a creature of sale.”

Marina: “Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will come into it? I hear say you are of honourable sorts, and are the governor of this place.”

Lysimachus: “Why, has your principal made known unto you who I am?”

Marina: “Who is my principal?”

Lydimachus: “Why, she that sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. You have heard something of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place.”

Marina: “If you were born to honour, show it now.”

Lysimachus: “How’s this? How’s this?”

Marina: “For me, that I am a maid, though most ungentle fortune has placed me in this sty, where, since I came, diseases have been sold more dear than physic – that the gods would set me free from this unhallowed place.

Lysimachus: “Hold, here is gold for thee. Persevere in that clear way thou goes, and the gods strengthen thee!”

Marina: “The good gods preserve you!”

Lysimachus: “For me, be you thought that I came with no ill intent; for the me the very doors and windows savour vilely. Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and I doubt not but thy training has been noble. Hold, here’s more gold for thee. A curse upon him, die he like a thief, that robs thee of thy goodness! If thou does hear from me, it shall be for thy good.”

Enter Boult

Boult: “I beseech your honour, one piece for me.”

Lisimachus: “Avaunt, thou damned door keeper! Your house, but for this virgin that does prop it, would sink and overwhelm you. Away!”

Boult: “How’s this? We must take another course with you. Your peevish chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country, shall undo a whole household. Come your ways.”

Marina: “Wither would you have me?”

Boult: “I must have your maidenhead taken off or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your ways, I say.”

Enter Bawd

Bawd: “How now. What’s the matter?”

Boult: “Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus.”

Bawd: “Abominable!”

Boult: “She makes our profession as it were to stink before the face of the gods.”

Bawd: “Marry, hang her up for ever!”

Boult: “The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away, saying his prayers too.”

Bawd: “Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure. Crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable.”

Boult: “And if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed.”

Marina: “Hark, hark, you gods.”

Bawd: “She conjures. Away with her. Would she had never come within my doors! She’s born to undo us.”

Boult: “Come, mistress, come your ways with me.”

Marina: “Wither will thou have me?”

Boult: “To take from you the jewel you hold so dear.”

Marina: “Thou holds a place for which the pained fiend of hell would not in reputation change; thou art the damned choleric fisting of every rogue thy ear is liable. Thy food is such as has been belched on by infected lungs.”

Boult: “What would you have me do? Go to the wars, would you, where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not done enough in the end to buy him a wooden one?”

Marina: “Do anything but this thou does. Empty old receptacles, or common shores of filth; serve by indenture to the common hangman. Any of these ways are yet better than this; that the gods would safely deliver me from this place! Here, here’s gold for thee. If that thy master would gain by me, proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew and dance, with other virtues which I’ll keep from boasting; and I will undertake all of these to teach. I doubt not but this populous city will yield many scholars.”

Boult: “Well, I will see what I can do for thee. If I can place thee, I will.”

Marina: “But amongst honest women?”

Boult: “Faith, my acquaintances lie little amongst them. But since my master and mistress have bought you, there’s no going but by their consent. Therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose. Come, I’ll for thee what I can; come your ways.”

Summary and Analysis

This is one of Shakespeare’s finest scenes. The good Marina will not succumb to her fate and the brothel owners soon wish they had never purchased her. She even sends the governor away a reformed man. The brothel is quickly losing all of its clients and Bould is told to have his way with her and get it over with. Just when it seems she is about to be ravished against her will she even manages to soften this hardened man and he promises to do whatever he can to help her find more honourable work. She is such a virtuous woman that everyone who encounters her is transformed by her inherent goodness. Like her father, she endures and transcends her grave misfortunes.

Act V

Prologue

Enter Gower

Gower: “Marina thus the brothel escapes and chances into an honest house, our story says. She sings like one immortal, and she dances as goddess-like, and her gain she gives the cursed bawd. Here we place her, and to her father turn our thoughts again, where we left him on the sea. We there him lost; whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast suppose him now at anchor, from whence Lysimachus our Tyre ship espies.”

Summary and Analysis

We learn from Gower that Marina escaped the brothel and has taken employment is an honest house. As well, Pericles is approaching Mytilene by sea, so we anticipate a most heartfelt reunion, as he has been informed that his daughter died and has even paid his respects at her monument. Marina has no idea what has become of her father, who she last encountered as a newborn infant. Act V will, indeed, have some wonder in store for us and them.

Act V (3 scenes)

Scene i

On Pericles’ ship, approaching Mytilene with Pericles and Helicanus aboard. A local barge from Mytilene has come up along side his ship. Two sailors approach, one from each vessel.

Tyrian soldier: “Sir, there is a barge put off from Mytilene, and in it is Lysimachus the governor, who craves to come aboard. What is your will?”

Helicanus: “I pray, greet him fairly.”

Enter Lysimachus

Lysimachus: “Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve you. Being on shore, seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, I made to it, to know of whence you are.”

Helicanus: “Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the King; a man who for these three months has not spoken to anyone, nor taken sustenance but to prologue his grief.”

Lysimachus: “Upon what ground is his distemperature?”

Helicanus: “The main grief springs from the loss of a beloved daughter and a wife.”

Lysimachus: “May we not see him?”

Helicanus: “You may, but he will not speak to any. Behold him (Pericles appears). This was a goodly person till the disaster that, one mortal night, drove him to this.”

Lysimachus: “Sir King, all hail! The gods preserve you!”

Helicanus: “It is in vain: he will not speak to you.”

1 Lord: “Sir, we have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager, would win some words of him.”

Lysimachus: “Tis well bethought. She, questionless, with her sweet harmony and other chosen attractions, would allure, and make a battery through his deafened parts, which now are midway stopped. She is all happy as the fairest of all.”

Helicanus: “Sure, all’s effortless; yet nothing we’ll omit that bears recovery’s name.”

Enter 1 Lord with Marina and another girl.

Lysimachus: “O, here is the lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one!”

Helicanus: “She’s a gallant lady.”

Lysimachus: “Fair one, here is a kingly patient. If that thy prosperous feat can draw him but to answer thee in aught, thy sacred physic shall receive such pay as thy desires can wish.”

Marina: “Sir, I will use my utmost skill in his recovery, provided that none but I and my companion maid be suffered to come near him.”

Lysimachus: “Come, let us leave her and the gods make her prosperous!”

Marina sings

Lysimachus: “Marked he your music?”

Marina: “No, nor looked on us.”

Lysimachus: “See, she will speak to him.”

Marina: “Hail sir! My lord, lend an ear.”

Pericles: “Hum, ha!”

Marina: “She speaks, my lord, that, maybe, has endured a grief that might equal yours, if both were justly weighed. Though wayward fortune did malign my state, my derivation was from ancestors who stood equivalent with mighty kings; but time has rooted out my parentage, and to the world and awkward casualties bound me in servitude.”

Pericles: “My fortunes – parentage – good parentage – to equal mine – was it not thus? What say you?”

Marina: “I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage you would not do me violence.”

Pericles: “I do think so. Pray you turn your eyes upon me. You are like something that – what countrywoman? Here of these shores?”

Marina: “No, nor of any shores, yet I was mortally brought forth.”

Pericles: “I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping. My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one my daughter might have been: my queen’s square brows; her stature to an inch; as silver voiced; her eyes as jewel like, and cased as richly; who starves the ear she feeds, and makes them hungry the more she gives them speech. Where do you live?”

Marina: “Where I am but a stranger. From the deck you may discern the place.”

Pericles: “Where were you bred? And how achieved you these endowments, which, you make more rich to owe.”

Marina: “If I should tell my history, it would seem like lies, disdained in the reporting.”

Pericles: “Prithee, speak. Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou looks as modest as justice, and thou seems a palace for the crowned truth to dwell in. I will believe thee, for thou looks like one I loved indeed. Report thy parentage. I think thou said thou had been tossed from wrong to injury, and that thou thought thy griefs might equal mine, if both were opened.”

Marina: “Some such thing I said, and said no more but what my thoughts did warrant me was likely.”

Pericles: “Tell thy story; if thine considered prove the thousand part of my endurance, thou art a man, and I have suffered like a girl. Yet thou does look like patience gazing on king’s graves, and smiling extremity out of act. Thy name, my most kind virgin? Come sit by me.”

Marina: “My name is Marina.”

Pericles: “O, I am mocked by some incensed god sent hither to make the world laugh at me. Thou little knows how thou does startle me to call thyself Marina.”

Marina: “The name was given me by one who had some power, my father, and a king.”

Pericles: “How! A king’s daughter? And called Marina?”

Marina: “You said you would believe me.”

Pericles: “But you are flesh and blood? Have you a working pulse and are no fairy? Well, speak on. Where were you born? And therefore called Marina?”

Marina: “For I was born at sea.”

Pericles: “At sea! What mother?”

Marina: “My mother was the daughter of a king, who died the minute I was born, as my good nurse, Lychorida, has often delivered weeping.”

Pericles: “O, stop there a little (aside) this is the rarest dream that ever dulled sleep did mock sad fools withal. This cannot be: my daughter’s buried – Well, where were you bred? I’ll hear you more, to the bottom of your story, and never interrupt you. I will believe you to the syllable of what you shall deliver. You give me leave – How came you in these parts? Where were you bred?”

Marina: “The king, my father, did in Tharsus leave me; till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife, did seek to murder me; a crew of pirates came and rescued me and brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir, why do you weep? It may be you think me an imposter. I am the daughter to King Pericles, if good King Pericles be.”

Pericles: “Ho, Helicanus!”

Helicanus: “Calls my lord?”

Pericles: “Thou art a grave and noble counsellor; tell me if thou can, what this maid is, or what is like to be, who thus has made me weep.”

Helicanus: “I know not; but here the regent, sir, of Mytilene, speaks nobly of her.”

Lysimachus: “She never would tell her parentage; being demanded that, she would sit still and weep.”

Pericles: “O Helicanus, strike me, honoured sir; give me a gash, put me to present pain, lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me overbear the shores of my mortality, and drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither, thou who begets him that did thee beget; thou who was born at sea, buried at Tarsus, and found at sea again! O Helicanus, down on my knees. This is Marina. What was thy mother’s name?”

Marina: “Sir, I pray, what is your title?”

Pericles: “I am Pericles of Tyre; but tell me now my drowned queen’s name.”

Marina: “Is it no more to be your daughter than to say my mother’s name was Thaisa? Thaisa was my mother, who did end the minute I began.”

Pericles: “Now blessing on thee! Rise; thou art my child. Give me fresh garments. Helicanus – she is not dead at Tharsus, as she should have been by savage Cleon. Who is this?”

Helicanus: “Sir, tis the governor of Mytilene, who, hearing of your melancholy state, did come to see you.”

Pericles: “I embrace you. Give me your robes. I am wild in my beholding. Heavens bless my girl! But, what music?”

Helicanus: “My lord, I hear none.”

Pericles: “None? The music of the spheres! Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear?”

Lysimachus: “My lord, I hear.”

Music is heard

Pericles:”Most heavenly music! It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber hangs upon my eyes: let me rest.” (Pericles sleeps)

Lysimachus: “A pillow for his head. So leave him all.”

Exit all but Pericles

The Goddess Diana appears to Pericles in a vision.

Diana: “My temple stands in Ephesus. Hie thee hither, and do unto my altar sacrifice. There, when my maiden priests are met together, before the people all, reveal how thou at sea did lose thy wife. Perform my bidding or live in woe; do it and be happy – by my silver bow. Awake and tell my Dream.”

Diana disappears

Pericles: “Celestial Diana, goddess, I will obey thee. Helicanus!”

Helicanus: “Sir?”

Pericles: “My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike the inhospitable Cleon; but I am for other services first: toward Ephesus.” (to Lysimachus) “Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, and give you gold for such provision as our intents will need?”

Lysimachus: “Sir, with all my heart; and when you come ashore I have another suit.”

Pericles: “You shall prevail, were it to woo my daughter; for it seems you have been noble towards her.”

Summary and Analysis

Pericles has arrived by ship in Mytilene and Lysimachus, the governor of Mytilene, has come out on a barge to greet him. In an earlier scene, Lysimachus was intent on ravishing the prostitute Marina before she converted him to purity and he mended his ways and supported her move to an honest house of employment. He learns that King Pericles will not speak because of the suffering he has endured, so he orders his men to bring Marina to try to help Pericles. Unbeknownst to all, they are father and daughter. Gradually, as they talk with one another Pericles first suspects and then confirms that this is, in fact, his daughter, thought to have died in Tharsus. It is one of Shakespeare’s most moving reconciliations. The Goddess Diana appears to him in a dream and tells him to visit her temple in Ephesus. Naturally, he obliges, but not before promising Marina to Lysimachus, which is just a tad awkward, as he was apparently a frequent flier at the brothel before Marina redeemed him. Both father and daughter have suffered immensely and that is the first clue that they are connected. She claims to have kingly ancestors, she looks like his wife, is named Marina, her father was a king, she was born at sea, her mother died just as she was born, her nurse was Lychorida, she was raised in Tharsus, where her caregivers tried to kill her, was captured by pirates and brought to Mytilene. Pericles feels he is being mocked by the gods because he was told she was dead and he actually visited her monument. Finally, she tells him that her mother’s name was Thaisa and he knows that this is miraculously true. He is blissfully reunited with his daughter he has not seen in fourteen years. The healing has begun in earnest!l

Act V

Scene ii

Ephesus, before the Temple of Diana.

Enter Gower

Gower: “Now our sands are almost run; more a little, and then dumb. This, my last boon, give me, that you aptly will suppose what pageantry, what feats, what shows the regent made in Mytilene, to greet the king. So he thrived, that he is promised to be wived to fair Marina. At Ephesus the temple does see our king.”

Summary and Analysis

Gower reminds us of the fine reception given Pericles in Mytilene and how Lysimachus and Marina will marry, once Pericles returns from Ephesus.

Act V

Scene iii

Ephesus: the Temple of Diana, with Thaisa standing as high priestess. Cerimon and others attending.

Enter Pericles, Lysimachus, Helicanus and Marina

Pericles: “Hail Diana! To perform thy just command, I here confess myself the King of Tyre’ who, frightened from my country, did wed at Pentapolis the fair Thaisa. At sea in childbirth died she, but brought forth a maid-child, called Marina. She at Tharsus was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years he sought to murder; but her better stars brought her to Mytilene, where, by her own most clear remembrance she made known herself my daughter.”

Thaisa: “Voice and favour! You are, you are – O royal Pericles!” (Thaisa swoons)

Pericles: “What means the nun? She dies! Help, gentlemen!”

Cerimon: “Noble sir, if you have told Diana’s altar true, this is your wife.”

Pericles: “Reverend appearer, no. I threw her overboard with these very arms.”

Cerimon: “Upon this coast, I warrant you.”

Pericles: “Tis most certain.”

Cerimon: “Look to the lady. O, she’s but overjoyed. Early in the blustering morn this lady was thrown upon this shore. I opened the coffin, found there rich jewels; recovered her, and placed her here in Diana’s temple.”

Pericles: “May we see them?”

Cerimon: “Great sir, they shall be brought to you. Look, Thais is recovered.”

Thaisa: “O, let me look! O, my lord, are you not Percles? Like him you speak, like him you are.”

Pericles: “The voice of dead Thaisa!”

Thaisa: “That Thaisa am I, supposed dead and drowned.”

Pericles: “Immortal Diana!”

Thaisa: “Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, the King, my father gave you such a ring.” (she shows him a ring)

Pericles: “This, this! No more, you gods! Your present kindness makes my past miseries sport. You shall do well that on the touching of her lips I may melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried a second time within these arms.”

Marina: “My heart leaps to be gone into my mother’s bosom.” (She kneels to Thaisa)

Pericles: “Look who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; thy burden at the sea, and called Marina, for she was yielded there.”

Thaisa: “Blessed and my own!”

Helicanus: “Hail, madam, and my queen!”

Thaisa: “I know you not.”

Pericles: “You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, I left behind an ancient substitute. I have named him often.”

Thaisa: “Twas Helicanus then.”

Pericles: “Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. Now do I long to hear how you were found; how possibly preserved; and who to thank, besides the gods, for this great miracle.”

Thaisa: “Lord Cerimon, my lord – this man through whom the gods have shown their power – that can first to last resolve you.”

Pericles: “Reverend sir, the gods can have no mortal officer more like a god than you. Will you deliver how this dead queen re-lives?”

Cerimon: “I will, my lord. Beseech you first to go with me to my house, where shall be shown to you all that was found with her; how she came placed here in the temple; no needful things omitted.”

Pericles: “Pure Diana, bless thee for thy vision! I will offer night oblations to thee. Thaisa, this prince, the fair bethrothed of your daughter, shall marry her at Pentapolis. And what these fourteen years no razor touched, to grace thy marriage day, I’ll beautify. Our son and daughter shall in Tyre reign. Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay to hear the rest untold. Sir, lead the way.”

Gower: “In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard of monstrous lust the due and just reward: in Pericles, his queen, and daughter, seen although assailed with fortune fierce and keen, virtue preserved from fell destruction’s blast, led on by heaven, and crowned with a joy at last. In Helicanus may you well descry a figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty; In reverend Cerimon there well appears the worth that learned charity wears. For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame had spread their cursed deed, and honoured name of Pericles, to rage the city turn that him and his they in his palace burned. So on your patience ever-more attending, new joy waits on you! Here our play is ending.”

Summary and Analysis

Pericles stands before the Temple of Diana and recounts his story, while priestess Thaisa listens. He says he is the king of Tyre and once married Thaisa in Pentapoli, who died at sea but birthed a daughter who was raised in Tharsus until the king and queen tried to murder her. She escaped to Mytilene, where he was reunited with her. Thaisa reveals herself as his wife, but he cannot believe her at first because he himself buried her adrift at sea fourteen years ago. Cerimon explains that he found her washed up on land and revived her. They are re-united along with Marina, their daughter. The reconciliation is complete. In the end, Gower fills in some details about how Antiochus and his incestuous daughter were blasted to death by the gods in heavens and how Cleon and his evil wife were attacked by their own people and burned in a palace fire. In contrast Helicanus and Cerimon are lauded as heroic figures. So Pericles’ journey is complete. He endured every hardship and found happiness, so much like a tragic comedy / romance.

Final Thoughts

A tremendous later play by Shakespeare with obvious limitations. After composing the finest tragic genius the world had ever seen in Hamlet, Julius Caesar, Measure for Measure, Othello, Macbeth, King Lear and Antony and Cleoptra between 1600-1606 he turns to a new genre, the tragic-comic romances of Pericles, Cymbeline and The Winter’s Tale from 1607 to 1610. That was quite the sharp turn in his career and not everyone was enamoured. Yet, these are wonderful plays, meant to be seen more than read in their visual splendour, extravagant story lines and character quests of misadventure. There are miraculous reconciliations and resurrections, dramatic fairy tale-like plot twists, tyrants and wicked stepmothers, a variety of locations, extraordinary costumes and set designs, tragedy mixed with comedy, murder, rape, incest, many storms and shipwrecks at sea, magic cures, terrible suffering, happy endings and a strong emphasis on fathers and daughters. We encounter Leontes and Perdida in The Winter’s Tale, Pericles and Marina in Pericles, Cymbeline and Innogen in Cymbeline and then Prospero and Miranda in The Tempest, all composed within 3-4 years of one another. We know that Shakespeare lost his only son, Hamnet, at age 11 in 1596, leaving him with two surviving children, both girls. By the time he was composing these romances about fathers and daughters Suzanne and Judith would have been in their twenties. Suzanne married in 1608 and presented Shakespeare with his first grandchild, Elizabeth, in 1608, just as he was writing Pericles.

Pericles is certainly an uneven play, as it was likely a collaboration, with Shakespeare writing the final three acts, once George Wilkins had advanced the narrative sufficiently in acts one and two. There is nothing of the depth of characterization we find in the great tragedies, as what we see is what we get with the lead characters here. We never really can discern what drives their motivation other than the very plot itself. They suffer, endure and are ultimately rewarded with rebirth and reunion. Significant questions remain unanswered. Why does Antiochus even have a riddle to be solved about his abomination if he wants to keep his incest a secret? Why does Pericles set off from Tyre to begin with? Why does he not ensure that Thaisa is actually dead before tossing her overboard at sea? Why does he leave his daughter Marina with Cleon and Dionyza for 14 years after having just lost his wife? Why does Dionyza try to have Marina murdered when she knows Pericles is planning to arrive soon and take her away with him? Why does Marina marry the man who frequented the brothels and tried his best to ravage her? And yet, it works! This was certainly one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays in his lifetime and remains so today. There is a wonderful stage production available on youtube, presented by the Old Vic Theatre School in England. It comes up first if you enter ‘Shakespeare’s Pericles’ into the youtube search bar. Highly recommended. There are also audio versions, but again, this is really one that should be seen and not just heard.

Troilus and Cressida

Introduction

The setting of Troilus and Cressida is the Trojan War, a story told by Homer on the utter fultlity of war, with familiar characters such as Hector, Paris, Helen, Aeneas, Ulysses (Odysseus), Achilles and Ajax. It is a two part story of a purposeless war and of agonizing lust. The war began when Helen was abducted from the Trojans and from Paris. But Shakespeare’s story begins seven years into the conflict and focuses more on the romantic involvement between Troilus and Cressida, whose relationship gets complicated when both sides decide to exchange a Trojan prisoner of war for Cressida, which devastates Troilus, especially when she willingly becomes flirtatious with the Greek soldiers and Diomedes in particular. In Homer’s original telling, Troilus was merely a parenthetical reference and Cressida did not exist. Their story was developed in medieval poetry, best known from Chaucer’s poem ‘Troilus and Criesyde’, very well known in Shakespeare’s day. Troilus and Cressida were to Shakespeare’s contemporaries as familiar a couple as Romeo and Juliet are to us today. The expressions ‘as true as Troilus’ and ‘as false as Cressida’ were deeply inbedded in renaissance culture. As far as the war itself goes, Hector, the great Trojan warrior, challenges any Greek soldier to a duel, and since Achilles is being petulant the Greeks choose Ajax to fight Hector, hoping this will ignite Achilles’ anger and cause him to return to the battlefield. His rage at having been overlooked does cause him to challenge Hector, but then Achilles has Hector murdered by a gang of Greek thugs. In a famous scene, the Trojans are forced to watch Achilles drag Hector’s dead body all around the battlefield behind his horse. With Hector dead the Greeks will soon send in their ‘gift’, the treacherous Trojan Horse, in order to end the conflict in victory over the Trojans.

Considered one of Shakespeare’s ‘problem plays’, Troilus and Cressida maintains a most serious intellectual tone of exquisite language and has always been considered a challenge to both read and perform. Written for a more sophisticated audience than what generally gathered at the Globe Theatre, it may have been intended for the lawyers at the Inns of Court and certainly not for the Royal Court of Queen Elizabeth. Most of the characters have a bitterness about them and Shakespeare portrays the warriors and lovers alike as vain, melancholic and witless anti-heroes. The only character portrayed as anything akin to heroic is Hector, who longs to face a worthy Greek opponent, but is underhandedly murdered by Achilles and his henchmen. Shakespeare clearly presents to his audiences a satire on heroism and war itself. The lovers are as much a decadent bunch of dysfunctional laughing stocks as are the warriors. Then there is the cynical Thersites, a bitter Greek slave / jester of negative exuberance, who becomes a mouthpiece for the futility of everything, but especially the war (“too much blood and not enough brains”) and all of its players and participants. This is a deliberately circumspect, problematic and bittersweet play by the Bard, but one with searing language, sharply drawn characters, profound themes and excellent speeches. It was never performed live, as far as we know, between Shakespeare’s day and the twentieth century. In 1609 the play was first announced in print as The History of Troilus and Cressida. In an introduction by the publisher it was shockingly declared a comedy. The first folio lists it as a tragedy. Nineteenth century British scholars finally labelled it a problem play. Dense and savage, profoundly disturbing, it is a worthy satiric examination of Homer’s exploration into the profundities of love and war.

Prologue

“In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece have to the port of Athens sent their ships, fraught with the ministers and instruments of cruel war. Their vow is made to ransack Troy, within where the ravished Helen, Menelaus’ queen, with wanton Paris sleeps – and that’s the quarrel. Priam’s six-gated city spurs up the sons of Troy. And hither am I come a prologue armed to tell you, fair beholders, that our play leaps over the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, beginning in the middle, starting thence away to what may be digested in a play. Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are; now good or bad, tis but the chance of war.”

Summary and Analysis

The plays opens with Prologue, armed as a soldier, here to tell us of the Trojan War, which began with the abduction of Helen by the Trojans and a Greek vow, supported by the launching of a thousand ships, to have her returned to them. Years later the conflict rages on and becomes the setting of our play. ‘Tis but the chance of war.’ Shakespeare immediately informs us that we are entering the mythological world of Homer’s The Illiad.

Act I (3 scenes)

Scene i

Troy, before the palace of Priam, King of the Trojans.

Enter Troilus (son of Priam) and Pandarus (uncle to Cressida)

Troilus: “I’ll unarm again. Why should I war beyond the walls of Troy, that find such cruel battle here within? The Greeks are strong and skillful to their strength, and to their fierceness valiant; but I am weaker than a woman’s tear, tamer than sleep, less valiant than the virgin in the night and more skill-less than unpracticed infancy. At Priam’s royal table do I sit; and when fair Cressida comes into my thoughts – Oh Pandarus! I tell thee, I am mad in her love.”

Pandarus: “Faith, I’ll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is because she is kin to me. Let her to the Greeks. And so I’ll tell her the next time I see her.”

Troilus: “Pandarus! Sweet Pandarus!”

Pandarus: “Pray you, speak no more to me.”

Exit Pandarus

Troilus: “Peace! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, when with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument; it is too starved a subject for my sword. But Pandarus – O gods, how you plague me! I cannot come to Cressida but by Pandarus; and he’s as tetchy to be woo’d to woo as she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, what Cressida is.”

Enter Aeneas

Aeneas: “How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield?”

Troilus: “Because not there. What news, Aeneas, from the field today?”

Aeneas: “That Paris is returning home hurt.”

Troilus: “By whom, Aeneas?”

Aeneas: “By Menelaus.”

Troilus: ” Let Paris bleed. Paris is gored with Menelaus’ horn.”

Alarum

Aeneas: “Hark, what good sport is out of the town today?”

Troilus: “Are you bound thither?”

Aeneas: “In all swift haste.”

Troilus: “Come, go we then together.”

Summary and Analysis

Several important ideas surface in the first scene of Act I. We learn immediately that Troilus won’t fight the Greeks because of the war he is fighting in his heart within the walls of Troy. He is hopelessly in love with Cressida. He admits what a prize Helen must be that so much blood is shed over her abduction every day and claims that he cannot fight upon this argument. Many of the Trojans believe the Trojan War is absurd and that they should surrender Helen back to the Greeks and live in peace. Unfortunately, many other Trojans disagree and the war continues after seven bloody years. The clash of individuals in love and the two states at war will be a theme throughout the play. Pandarus is Cressida’s uncle and will be the go between on behalf of the two lovers. When Panadus tells Troilus ‘let her to the Greeks’ he is referring to the fact that Cressida’s father actually switched sides during the war and now sides with the Greeks. This is significant because eventually Cressida will join her father in a swap between her and a Trojan prisoner. Aeneas returns from the field to report that Paris has been injured in battle with Menelaus. Troilus responds by saying ‘let Paris bleed. Paris is gored by Menelaus’ Horn.’ Menelaus was married to Helen, regarded as the most beautiful woman in the world, when one day while he was away on business, Paris and Helen ran off together to Troy. This began the Trojan War, as Menelaus was cuckholded by Paris, which explains Troilus’ remark about Paris being gored by Menelaus’ horn, as the principle symbols of a cuckold are ram’s horns. At the very end of the scene Troilus does return to the battle with Aeneus. This is a very complex play and much will come of the dialogues and speeches throughout for us to digest and consider. Shakespeare is laying some early and essential foundation here at the start.

Act I

Scene ii

Troy. A street.

Enter Cressida and her servant Alexander

Cressida: “Who was that who went by?”

Alexander: “Queen Hecuba”

Cressida: “Whither she go?”

Alexander: “Up to the eastern tower, to see the battle. Hector today was moved, and to the field he goes, where every flower did as a prophet weep what it foresaw in Hector’s wrath.”

Cressida: What was his cause of anger?”

Alexander: “The noise goes this: there is among the Greeks a lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector. They call him Ajax.”

Cressida: “What of him?”

Alexander: “This man, lady, has robbed many beasts of their particular additions. He is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, and slow as the elephant. His valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion. He is melancholy without cause.”

Cressida: “But how should this man make Hector angry?”

Alexander: “They say that yesterday he cop’d Hector in the battle and struck him down, the shame whereof has ever since kept Hector fasting and waking.”

Cressida: “Hector is a gallant man.”

Alexander: “As may be in the world, lady.”

Enter Pandarus

Pandarus: “Good morrow, cousin Cressida. Was Hector armed and gone? Helen was not up, was she?”

Cressida: “Hector was gone, but Helen was not up.”

Pandarus: “Hector was stirring early.”

Cressida: “That we were talking of, and of his anger.”

Pandarus: “I know the cause too. And Troilus will not come far behind him. Let them take heed of Troilus.”

Cressida: “What, is he angry too?”

Pandarus: “Troilus is the better man of the two.”

Cressida: “O Jupiter! There is no comparison.”

Pandarus: “What, between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? Hector is not a better man than Troilus.”

Cressida: “Excuse me.”

Pandarus: “You have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore the other day that Troilus tis. She praised his complexion above Paris. I swear to you I think Helen loves him better than Paris. I swear she does. But to prove it to you, she came and put her white hand to his chin.”

Cressida: “Juno have mercy!”

Pandarus: “I think his smiling becomes him better than any man.”

Cressida: “O, he smiles valiantly!”

Pandarus: “Does he not. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his chin. Hark, they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up here and see them as they pass? Here is an excellent place. I’ll tell you them by their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest. That’s Aeneus. Is not that a brave man? He’s one of the flowers of Troy. But mark Troilus, who you should see anon.”

Cressida: “Who is that?”

Pandarus: “That’s Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I’ll tell you. He’s one of the soundest judgments in Troy. When comes Troilus? That’s Hector. Now there’s a fellow! There’s a brave man, niece. Look how he looks. There’s a countenance.”

Cressida: O, a brave man!”

Pandarus: “Look you what hacks are on his helmet!”

Cressida: “Be those of swords?”

Pandarus: “Swords! Anything; he cares not. Yonder come Paris. Is that not a gallant man, too. Why this will do Helen’s heart good! Would I could see Troilus now.”

Cressida: “Who’s that?”

Pandarus: “That’s Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is.”

Cressida: “Can Helenus fight, uncle?”

Pandarus: “Helenus! No. Yes, he’ll fight indifferent well. Hark, do you not hear the people cry ‘Troilus’?”

Cressida: “What sneaking fellow comes yonder?”

Pandarus: “Tis Troilus. There’s a man, niece. Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry! Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece; look you how his sword is bloodied and his helmet more hacked than Hector’s. O admirable youth! Had I a sister were a grace or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. Paris is dirt to him.”

Cressida: “Here come more.”

Common soldiers pass

Pandarus: “Asses, fools, dolts! Chaff and bran! Porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus.”

Cressida: “There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus.”

Pandarus: “Achilles? A porter, a very camel! Why have you any discretion? Have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such, the spice and salt that season a man?”

Cressida: “Ay, a minced man; and then to be baked!”

Pandarus: “You are such a woman!”

Enter Toilus’ boy

Boy: “Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you at your house; there he unarms.”

Pandarus: “Good boy. Tell him I come. Fair ye well, good niece.”

Exit Pandarus

Cressida: “Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love’s full sacrifice, he offers in another’s enterprise. But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see than in the glass of Pandar’s praise may be, yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: things won are done. Men prize things ungained. That she was never yet that ever knew love got so sweet as when desire did sue. Therefore, this maxim out of love I teach: achievement is command.

Summary and Analysis

Cressida and her man-servant discuss Hector’s rage about having been bested on the field by the Greek warrior Ajax, who also happens to be Hector’s cousin. Pandarus arrives and spends much of the remainder of the scene shamefully promoting Troilus to Cressida, his own niece, claiming he is a better man than either Hector or Paris and suggesting that even Helen prefers Troilus to Paris. Clearly Pandarus is working hard on Troilus’ behalf. Once Pandarus departs, Cressida confides that she also is quite fond of Troilus, but she is remaining reserved and enjoying his pursuit of her, since ‘women are angels, wooing’, but ‘things won are done’. She believes ‘men prize things ungained’, when desire is greatest. Scenes in Troilus and Cressida will bounce between matters of war and personal affairs of the heart and soul of individual characters in both the Trojan and Greek camps.

Act I

Scene iii

The Grecian Camp, before Agamemnon’s tent.

Enter Agamemnon, Nester, Ulysses, Diomedes and Menelaus

Agamemnon: “Princes, what grief has set these jaundices over your cheeks? It is not matter new to us that we come short of our suppose so far that after a seven year siege yet Troy walls stand. Why then do you with cheeks abashed behold our works and call them shames, which are, indeed, none else than the protracted trials of great Jove to find persistive constancy in men.”

Nestor: “With due observance of thy godlike seat, great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply thy latest words.”

Ulysses: “Agamemnon, thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, hear what Ulysses speaks.”

Agamemnon: “Speak, Prince of Ithaca.”

Ulysses: “The specialty of rule has been neglected; and look how many Greek tents do stand hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. When the general is not like the hive, to whom the foragers shall all repair, what honey is expected? The heavens themselves observe degree, priority, place, proportion, form and custom, in all line of order. But when the planets in evil mixture to disorder wander, what plagues and what portents, what mutiny, what raging of the sea, shaking of earth, commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors divert and crack the unity and married calm of states quite from their fixture! O when degree is shaken the enterprise is sick! How could communities, schools, cities, commerce, crowns, sceptres, laurels, but by degree, stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untie that string, and hark what discord follows! The bounded waters should lift their bosoms higher than the shores and make a sop of this solid globe; strength should be lord of imbecility, and the rude son should strike his father dead; force should be right; then everything includes itself in power, power into will, will into appetite, and appetite, a universal wolf, so doubly seconded with will and power, must make perforce a universal prey, and last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, this chaos, when degree is suffocated, follows the choking. The general is disdained by him one step below, he by the next, that next by him beneath; so every step, exampled by the first pace that is sick of his superior, grows to an envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation. And tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, not her own sinews. Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength.”

Nestor: “Most wisely has Ulysses here discovered the fever whereof all our power is sick.”

Agamemnon: “The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, what is the remedy?”

Ulysses: “The great Achilles, having his ear full of his airy fame, grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent lies mocking our designs; with him Patroclus upon a lazy bed the livelong day breaks vulgar jests; and with ridiculous and awkward action he pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, thy topless deputation he puts on, and like a strutting player he acts thy greatness. At this stuff the large Achilles, on his pressed bed lolling, from his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; cries ‘Excellent! Tis Agamemnon just. Now play me Nestor.’ And at this sport Sir Valour cries ‘O, enough, Patroclus; I shall split all in pleasure of my spleen’. And in this fashion all of our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, achievements, plots, orders, preventions, excitements to the field or speech for truce, success or loss, what is or is not, serves for stuff for these to make paradoxes.”

Nestor: “And in the imitation of these twain many are infected. Ajax has grown self-willed and bears his head in full and proud a place as Achilles; keeps to his tent like him; makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war and sets Thersites, a slave whose gall coins slander like a mint, to match us in comparisons to dirt.”

Ulysses: “They tax our policy and call it cowardice, count wisdom as no member of the war. Why, this has not a finger’s dignity.”

Agamemnon: “What trumpet?”

Menelaus: “From Troy.”

Enter Aeneas

Agamemnon: “What would you before our tent?”

Aeneas: “Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon?”

Agamemnon: “Sir, do you of Troy call yourself Aeneas?”

Aeneas: “Ay, Geek, that is my name.”

Agamemnon: “What’s your affair, I pray you?”

Aeneas: “Sir, pardon; tis for Agamemnon’s ears. I bring a trumpet to awaken his ear.”

Agamemnon: “Speak frankly, Trojan, he is awake. He tells thee so himself.’

Aeneas: “Trumpet, blow loud, through all these lazy tents; and every Greek of mettle, let him know what Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy a prince called Hector – Priam is his father – who in this dull and long-continued truce is restive grown; he bade me speak. If there be one among the fairest of Greece who holds his honour higher than his ease, who seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, who knows his valour and knows not his fear, to him this challenge: Hector, in view of Trojans and Greeks, shall make it good. He has a lady wiser, fairer, truer than ever Greek did couple in his arms; and will tomorrow, midway between your tents and the walls of Troy to rouse a Grecian who is true in love. If any come, Hector shall honour him; if none, he’ll stay in Troy when he retires and the Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth the splinter of a lance.”

Agamemnon: “This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. If none of them have soul in such a kind, we left them all at home. But we are soldiers; if then one is, that one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. Fair Aeneas, let me touch your hand; to our pavilion shall I lead you. Achilles shall have word of this intent; so shall each lord of Greece; from tent to tent you shall feast with us before you go, and find the welcome of a noble foe.”

Exit all but Ulysses and Nestor

Ulysses: “I have a young conception in my brain and tis this. The seeded pride in rank Achilles must now be cropped or breed a nursery of like evil will overbulk us all. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, however it is spread in general name, relates in purpose only to Achilles.”

Nestor: “True. Achilles will, with great speed of judgment find Hector’s purpose pointing on him. Who may you else oppose who can from Hector bring the honours off, if not Achilles? Though it be a sportive combat, yet in this trial much opinion dwells; for here the Trojans taste our dearest repute with their finest palate; for the success shall give a scantling of good or bad unto the general; and in such indexes there is seen the baby figure of the giant mass of things to come at large. It is supposed he who meets Hector issues from our choice, as t’were from forth us all, a man distilled out of our virtues.”

Ulysses: “Therefore tis best Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares and think perchance they’ll sell; if not, the lustre of the better yet to show shall show the better, by showing the worst first. Do not consent that ever Hector and Achilles meet. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, were he not proud, we all should wear with him; but he already is too insolent. If he were foiled, why, then we do our main opponent crush in taint of our best man. No, make a lottery; and by device, let blockish Alax draw the sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves give him allowance for the better man. If the dull, brainless Ajax fail, yet go we under our opinion still that we have better men. But, hit or miss, Ajax employed plucks down Achilles’ plumes.”

Nestor: “Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; and I will give a taste thereof forthwith to Agamemnon. Go we to him straight.”

Summary and Analysis

This lengthy scene takes place entirely within the Greek encampment and we learn quite a bit. Agamemnon assembles his generals to find out why everyone seems so grim and disenchanted. Yes, its been seven years and Troy still stands but, according to Agamemnon, the gods are merely testing their mettle under duress. They must endure their difficulties and become stronger as a result of hardship. Then Ulysses, the quintessential ideas man, launches into his first great speech about how there is an order to everything that functions well in the universe. By degree everything and everyone has their place and so long as this ‘order by degree’ is maintained everything functions well. But once disorder rages, and individuals ignore their place in the greater scheme of things, then chaos ensues and everything disintegrates. Respect for authority is the glue that holds all societies together. Ulysses is essentially espousing the ‘great chain of being’ theory of conservative politics. Everyone has their place in society and must accept that designation or the entire society collapses. Ulysses is specifically referring to the Greek camp and the abhorrent behaviour of many of the soldiers. Agamemnon is at the top of the chain and yet Achilles lies around in his tent with his lover, Patroclus, and makes parody of Agamemnon, the other generals and the war at large. He refuses to come out to fight. And, as disorder tends to spread, many others are infected and the Greeks are hopelessly divided into dangerous and ineffective factions. Ajax also remains in his tent with his cynical slave / fool, Thersites, and they compare the great generals to dirt. Hence are the Greeks glum and dejected.

At this point Aeneas arrives from the Trojan camp to announce that their great warrior, Hector, is challenging any brave Greek to a one on one sporting combat. They accept his challenge and invite Aeneus to feast with them before returning to Troy. This challenge has given Ulysses a plan. Achilles will expect to be chosen to fight Hector, but Ulysses suggests the Greeks hold a lottery to see who will be chosen and then ensure that it is Ajax. This way, if Ajax is defeated the Greeks can claim he was not their best man. But the main thrust of this plan is that it might enrage Achilles out of his slumber and back to the battlefield along with his many brutish soldiers. Ulysses is the most philosophical of all of the Greek leaders. It will be his idea to bring in the Trojan horse full of Greek soldiers and offer it as a gift to the Trojans. This trickery will ultimately win the war for the Greeks. It is also Ulysses who is the hero of the companion piece to the Illiad, known as the Odyssey, as it follows his ten year journey home following the Trojan War. He is the wisest of the Greeks and we shall hear from him often.

Act II (3 scenes)

Scene i

The Greek camp

Enter Ajax and Thesites

Ajax: “Thersites! Thersities! Dog! Thou bitch-wolf’s son, can thou not hear me?” (strikes him)

Thersites: “The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord.”

Ajax: “Speak, then. I will beat thee into handsomeness.”

Thersites: “I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness.”

Ajax: “Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.”

Thersites: “Does thou think I have no sense, thou strikes me thus?”

Ajax: “The proclamation!”

Thersites: “Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.”

Ajax: “Do not, porcupine, do not. My fingers itch.”

Thersites: “I would thou did itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece.”

Ajax: “I say, the proclamation.”

Thersites: “Thou grumbles and rails every hour on Achilles. Thou art so full of envy at his greatness that thou barks at him. Thou should strike him. He would pun thee into shivers with his fists, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.”

Ajax: “You whoreson cur.” (strikes him)

Thersites: “Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou has no more brains than I have in my elbows; an ass may tutor thee. You scurvy valiant ass! Thou art here but to thrash Trojans, and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian slave.”

Ajax: “You dog!”

Thesites: “You scurvy lord!”

Ajax: “You cur.” (strikes him)

Thersites: “Do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do.”

Enter Achilles and Patroclus

Achilles: “Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do you thus? How now Thersites? What’s the matter, man?”

Thersites: “You see him there, do you?”

Achilles: “Ay, what’s the matter?”

Thersites: “Nay, look upon him. Regard him well.”

Achilles: “Well! Why, I do.”

Thersites: “But yet you look not well upon him. He is Ajax.”

Achilles: “I know that, fool.”

Thersites: “Ay, but that fool knows not himself.”

Ajax: “Therefore I beat thee.”

Thersites: “Lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones. This lord, Achilles, Ajax – who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head – I’ll tell you what I say of him.”

Achilles: “Peace, fool!”

Thersites: “I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not.”

Ajax: “O thou damned cur – I shall -“

Achilles: “What’s the quarrel?”

Ajax: “I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.”

Thersites: “I serve thee not; I serve here voluntarily.”

Achilles: “Your last service was sufferance; twas not voluntary. You are under an impress.”

Thersites: “Even so, a great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews. Hector shall have a great catch and knock out either of your brains. A fusty nut with no kernel.”

Achilles: “What, with me too, Thersites?”

Thersites: “Yes, good sooth. To Achilles, to Ajax, to -“

Ajax: “I shall cut out your tongue.”

Thersites: “Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.”

Patroclus: “No more words, Thersites; peace!”

Thersites: “I will see you all hanged ere I come any more to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.”

Exit Thersites

Patroclus: ” A good riddance.”

Achilles: “Marry, this, sir. It is proclaimed that Hector, will with a trumpet twixt our tents and Troy, tomorrow morning, call some knight to arms who has a stomach. Farewell.”

Ajax: “Farewell. Who shall answer him?”

Achilles: “I know not; tis put to lottery.”

Ajax: “I will go learn more of it.”

Summary and Analysis

We meet three important characters in this scene. Thersities is a slave to Ajax and is appalled by the behaviour of most of the soldiers and of the entire war itself. He rails against everyone and everything and yet is not necessarily a villain. He merely speaks his truth in a most vulgar and abusive language and tone and his truths may be shared by many, although they are expressed with rage and curses. We might find ourselves very sympathetic to his railings, if not his venomous tones. We may recall from the previous scene that Ulysses and Hector are also fed up with the behaviours of Achilles and Ajax and the course of the war. In this scene Ajax is trying to learn from Thersites something about this proclamation from Hector, and Thersites simply insults him over and over again, even though he takes repeated beatings for doing so. It is extremely unusual to hear a slave speak thus to his lord, but Shakespeare has created him for the express purpose of being a foil to the absurdities of war and the excesses of the wanton behaviour of many of the participants. We also meet the two principle warriors in the Greek camp, Ajax and Achilles. Supposed heroes, they are both highly dysfunctional and egotistical figures who Thesites exposes again and again. Accompanying Achilles is his dear friend and lover, Patroclus, with whom he lays about all day in his tent. Thersites directs his venom at him as well. Homer depicted these Greek warriors as great heroes, but Shakespeare presents them as melancholic and egotistical bores throughout his play and employs Thersites to be his mouthpiece to this affect. By the end of the scene Achilles has informed Ajax of Hector’s challenge and how the Greek fighter will be chosen by lottery. Only we know better, as this is Ulysses’ plan to have Ajax fight Hector and thereby to induce Achilles back into the fight.

Act II

Scene ii

Troy. Priam’s palace.

Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris and Hellenus

Priam: “After so many hours, lives and speeches, thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: ‘Deliver Helen, and all damage else as honour, loss of time, travail, expense, wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed in hot digestion of this war – shall be struck off. Hector, what say you to it?”

Hector: “Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, yet, dread Priam, let Helen go. Since the first sword was drawn about this question, every soul amongst many thousand dismissed has been as dear as Helen. If we have lost so many of ours, to guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us, what merit is in that reason which denies the yielding up of her?”

Troilus: “Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, so great as our dread father, in a scale of common ounces? Fie, for godly shame!”

Helenus: “You are so empty of reason. Should not our father bear the great sway of his affairs with reason?”

Troilus: “You are for dreams and slumbers, brother. Here are your reasons: You know an enemy intends you harm; and reason flies the object of all harm. Nay, if we talk of reason, let us shut our gates and sleep. Reason and respect make livers pale and lustihood deject.”

Hector: “Brother, she is not worth what she does cost the keeping.”

Troilus: “What’s aught but as tis valued?”

Hector: “But value dwells not in particular will. Tis mad idolatry to make the service greater than the good. And the will dotes that is attributive to what infectiously itself affects, without some image of the affected merit.”

Troilus: “There can be no evasion from standing firm by honour. We turn not back the silks upon the merchant when we have soiled them. It was thought Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks; your breath with full consent bellied his sails. And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held active he brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness wrinkles Apollo’s. Why keep her? The Greeks keep our aunt. Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl whose price has launched a thousand ships. If you’ll avouch, tis wisdom Paris went – as you must need, for you all cried ‘Go, go’ – If you’ll confess he brought home a worthy prize – as you must needs, for you all clapped your hands and cried ‘Inestimable!’ – why do you now the issue of your proper wisdom rate, and do a deed that never fortune did – beggar the estimation that you prized richer than sea and land? O theft most base, that we have stolen what we do fear to keep!

Cassandra: (within) “Cry, Trojans, cry!”

Priam: “What noise, what shriek is this?”

Troilus: “Tis our mad sister.”

Cassandra: (within) ” Cry, Trojans!”

Enter Cassandra raving

Cassandra: “Cry, Trojans, cry, lend me ten thousand eyes, and I will fill them with prophetic tears.”

Hector: “Peace, sister, peace.”

Cassandra: “Virgins and boys, middle aged and wrinkled elders, soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, add to my clamours that mass of moans to come. Cry, Trojans, cry. Practice your eyes with tears, Troy must not be. Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry. A Helen and a woe! Troy burns, or else let Helen go.”

Exit Cassandra

Hector: “Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains of divination in our sister work some touches of remorse, or is your blood so madly hot that no discourse of reason, nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, can qualify the same?”

Troilus: “Why, brother Hector, we may not deject the courage of our minds because Cassandra’s mad. Her brain-sick raptures cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel which has our several honours all engaged to make it gracious. And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us such things as might offend the weakest spleen to fight for and maintain.”

Paris: “But I attest to the gods, your full consent gave wings to my propension, and cut off all fears attending on so dire a project. I protest, were I alone to pass the difficulties, and had as ample power as I have will, Paris should never retract what he has done.”

Priam: “Paris, you speak like one besotted on your sweet delights. You have the honey still, but these the gall; so to be valiant is no praise at all.”

Paris: “Sir, I propose not merely to myself the pleasures such a beauty brings with it; but I would have the soil of her fair rape wiped off in honourably keeping her. What treason was it to the ransacked queen, disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, now to deliver her possession up on terms of base compulsion! There’s not the meanest spirt on our party without a heart to dare or sword to draw when Helen is defended; nor none so noble whose life was ill bestowed or death untamed where Helen is the subject. Then, I say, well may we fight for her whom we know well the world’s large spaces cannot parallel.”

Hector: “Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; and on the cause and question now at hand have glossed, but superficially; not much unlike young men, whom Aristotle taught unfit to hear moral philosophy. The reasons you allege do more to lead to the hot passions of distempered blood than to make up a free determination twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge have ears more deaf than adders to the voice of any true decision. Nature craves all dues be rendered to their owners. Now, what nearer debt in all humanity than wife is to husband? If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta’s king – as it is known she is – these moral laws of nature and of nations speak aloud to have her returned. Thus to persist in doing wrong makes it much more heavy. Yet, nevertheless, my spritely brethren, I propend to you in resolution to keep Helen still.”

Troilus: “Were it not glory that we more affected than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood spent more in her defence. But worthy Hector, she is a theme of honour and renown, a spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, whose present courage may beat down our foes, and fame in time to come canonize us.”

Hector: “I am yours, you valiant offspring of great Priam. I have a swaggering challenge sent amongst the dull and factious nobles of the Greeks will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertised their great general slept. This, I presume, will wake him.”

Summary and Analysis

This entire scene is one long Trojan discussion and debate on the merits of keeping Helen in light of the Greek proclamation that if she is but returned, the Greeks will go home. Hector and Hellenus do not believe she is worth the price they have paid to keep her throughout these seven years of war with the Greeks over her abduction. They seem to be supported by their mad prophetess sister, Cassandra, who raves on and on about how Helen should be returned or the Trojans will face certain doom. Whether their sister is, in fact, mad or prophetic is a further part of their considerations. Troilus and Paris believe that keeping Helen is a matter of honour and that her worth mirrors her reputation as incomparable. Hector hears their argument and actually changes his mind and supports them and the maintaining of Helen in their camp. The question here really is does anyone or anything have intrinsic value or does it merely possess the value to which we ascribe it. On this point Hector is willing to change his mind and support Paris in his suggestion that Helen has come to be a great matter of honour and pride to the Trojans who stole her from the Greeks. On this alone she is worth keeping.

Act II

Scene iii

The Greek camp. Before the tent of Achilles.

Enter Thersites

Thersites: “How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me and I rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that I could beat him, while he railed at me! Then there’s Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of the gods, if you take not that little, little, less than little wit from them that they have! After this, vengeance on the whole camp! I have said my prayers; and the devil envy says amen.”

Enter Patroclus

Patroclus: “Good Thersites, come in and rail.”

Thersites: “Thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! Heaven bless thee from a tutor and discipline come not near thee. Amen. Where’s Achilles?”

Patroclus: “What, art thou devout? Was thou in prayer?”

Thersites: “Ay, the heavens hear me!”

Patroclus: Amen.”

Enter Achilles: “Who’s there?”

Patroclus: “Thersites, my lord.”

Achilles: “Where, where? Come, what’s Agamemnon?”

Thersites: “Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what’s Achilles?”

Patroclus: “Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what’s Thersites?”

Thersites: “Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou?”

Patroclus: “Thou must tell who knows.”

Achillesa: “O, tell, tell!”

Thersites: “I’ll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus’ knower; and Patroclus is a fool.”

Patroclus: “You rascal!”

Thersites: “Peace, fool! I am not done.”

Achilles: “Proceed Thersites.”

Thersites: “Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool.”

Achilles: “Derive this; come.”

Thersites: “Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool; and this Patroclus is a fool positive.”

Patroclus: “Why am I a fool?”

Thersites: “Make that demand of the creator. It suffices me thou art.”

Exit all but Thersites

Thersites: “Here is such patchers, such juggling, and such knavery. All the argument is a whore and a cuckold – a good quarrel to draw factions and bleed to death upon. Now war and lechery confound all.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes and Ajax

Agamemnon: “Where is Achilles?”

Patroclus: “Within his tent; but ill-disposed, my lord.”

Agamemnon: “Let it be known to him that we are here. He shunned our messengers; and we lay by visiting of him. Let him be told so, lest he know not what we are.”

Patroclus: “I shall say so to him.” (exits)

Ulysses: “We saw him at the opening of his tent. He is not sick.”

Ajax: “Yes, lion sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man. But, by my head, tis pride. But why, why? Let him show us a cause. A word, my lord.”

Patroclus: “Achilles bids me say he is much sorry if anything more than your sport or pleasure did move your greatness and this noble state to call upon him.”

Agamemnon: “Hear you, Patroclus. We are too well acquainted with these answers; but this evasion, winged thus swift with scorn, cannot outfly our apprehensions. Much attribute he has, and much the reason why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his virtues, not virtuously on his own part beheld, do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss; like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him we come to speak with him. Say we think him over-proud and under-honest. Go tell him this, and add that if he overhold his price so much, we’ll none of him. Bring action hither; this cannot go to war. Tell him so.”

Patroclus: “I shall, and will bring his answer presently.” (exits)

Agamemnon: “We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you.” (Ulysses exits)

Ajax: “What is he more than another?”

Agamemnon: “No more than what he thinks he is.”

Ajax: “Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am?”

Agamemnon: “No question.”

Ajax: “Will you subscribe his thought and say he is.”

Agamemnon: “No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable.”

Ajax: “Why should a man be proud? How does pride grow? I know not what pride is.”

Agamemnon: “Your mind is the clearers, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed devours the deed in the praise.

Enter Ulysses

Ajax: “I do hate a proud man and I do hate the engendering of toads.”

Nestor: (aside) “And yet he loves himself; isn’t it strange?”

Ulysses: “Achilles will not to the field tomorrow.”

Agamemnon: “What’s his excuse?”

Ulysses: “He does rely on none, but carries on the stream of his dispose, without observance or respect of any.”

Agamemnon: “Why will he not, upon our fair request, untent his person and share the air with us?”

Ulysses: “Things small as nothing he makes important; possessed he is with greatness, and speaks not to himself but with a pride that quarrels at self-breath. Imagined worth holds in his blood such swollen and hot discourse that twixt his mental and his active parts kingdom’d Achilles in commotion rages, and batters down himself. What should I say? He’s so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it cry ‘No recovery’.”

Agamemnon: “Let Ajax go to him. Dear lord, go you and greet him his tent. Tis said he holds you well, and will be led at your request a little from himself.”

Ulysses: “O Agamemnon, let it not be so! By going to Achilles that were to enlarge his fat-already pride. This lord go to him? Heaven forbid.”

Ajax: “If I go to him, with my armed fist I’ll pash him over the face.”

Agamemnon: “O, no, you shall not go.”

Ajax: “Let me go to him.”

Ulysses: “Not for the worth that hangs upon your quarrel.”

Ajax: “A paltry, insolent fellow!”

Nestor: (aside) “How he describes himself!”

Ajax: “Can he not be sociable?”

Ulysses: (aside) “The raven chides blackness.

Ajax: “I’ll let his humours bleed.”

Agamemnon: (aside) “He will be the physician who should be the patient.

Ajax: “I will knead him. I’ll make him supple.”

Diomedes: “You must prepare to fight without Achilles.”

Ajax: “A whoreson dog! Would he were a Trojan.”

Ulysses: “Achilles keeps thicket. Tomorrow we must with all our main of power stand fast; Ajax shall cope the best.”

Agamemnon: “Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep.”

Summary and Analysis

This scene takes place entirely in the Greek camp. After Thersites has his little soliloquy slagging Achilles and Ajax, he has a good go at Patroclus and Achilles, as they arrive. His wit is ever ascerbic, and his targets seem to almost enjoy his rancour at times. When the mighty lords finally assemble the question of the hour is will Achilles fight tomorrow. As it turns out, he will not even grace the assemblage with his presence, even though King Agamemnon demands his appearance. Clearly Ulysses was right about order disintegrating amongst the Greeks. Ajax relishes in the criticism of Achilles and the lords take delight in their snide remarks about Ajax.

In the six scenes thus far two have been about the romantic origins between Troilus and Cressida, one featured a good spat between Thersites and Ajax, and the other three focused on the various personal complications and dysfunctions within both the Spartan and the Greek camps. As we move into Act III we have a fairly good sense of what both sides are contending with in the Trojan War. The Trojans are divided over the question of whether Helen is worth the cost of the seven years of war and the Greeks are hopelessly splintered and seemingly bored with the conflict. Act III is has three scenes and the first two will advance the love story of the play’s namesakes before we return to the drama of Achilles swollen pride and whether he will ever fight again.

Act III (3 scenes)

Scene i

Troy. Priam’s palace

Enter Pandarus and a servant

Pandarus: “Friend, you – pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young Lord Paris?”

Servant: “Sir, I do depend upon the lord.”

Pandarus: “What music is this? Who plays they to?”

Servant: “To the hearers, sir.”

Pandarus: “At whose pleasure, friend?”

Servant: “At mine, sir, and theirs who love music.”

Pandarus: “Friend, we understand not one another. I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play?”

Servant: “Marry, sir, at the request of Paris, my lord, and with him the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love’s invisible soul.”

Pandarus: “Who, my cousin, Cressida?”

Servant: “No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her attributes?”

Enter Paris and Helen

Pandarus: “Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company, and especially to you, fair queen! My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word? Your brother, Troilus, commends himself most affectionately to you, and he desires that you, if the Kings calls for him at supper, you will make his excuse.”

Paris: “Where sups he tonight? I’ll lay my life, Cressida. Well, I’ll make his excuse.”

Pandarus: “Ay, my good lord. Why should you say Cressida?”

Paris: “I spy.”

Pandarus: “You spy! What do you spy?”

Paris: “Love, nothing but love.”

Pandarus: “Sweet lord, whose a-field today?”

Paris: “Hector, Hellenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have armed today, but my Nell would not have it so.”

Pandarus: “You’ll remember you brother’s excuse?”

Paris: “To a hair.”

Exit Pandarus

Paris: “They’re coming from the field. Let us to Priam’s hall to greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you to help unarm our Hector.”

Helen: “Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris.”

Paris: “Sweet, above thought I love thee.”

Summary and Analysis

We return to the love story here, as Pandarus appeals to Paris to make an excuse for Troilus being absent from dinner with King Priam. Paris and Helen joke how they will cover for Troilus but they realize that Troilus will be with Cressida. We learn here that the relationship between our play’s titles couple is developing amid the war and intrigue we have witnessed in the past four scenes.

Act III

Scene ii

Troy. Pandarus’ orchard.

Enter Pandarus and Troilus’ boy

Pandarus: “How now! Where’s thy master? At my cousin Cressida’s?”

Boy: “No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him hither.”

Enter Troilus

Padarus: “O, here he comes. Have you seen my cousin?”

Troilus: “No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door. O gentle Pandar, from Cupid’s shoulder pluck his painted wings, and fly with me to Cressida!”

Pandarus: “Walk here in the orchard. I’ll bring her straight.” (exits)

Troilus: “I am giddy; expectation whirls me around. The imaginary relish is so sweet that it enchants my sense; what will it be when that the watery palate tastes indeed love’s thrice-reputed nectar?”

Re-enter Pandarus

Pandarus: “She is making her ready, she’ll come straight; you must be witty now. I’ll fetch her.” (exits)

Troilus: “Even such a passion does embrace my bosom. My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse.”

Re-enter Pandarus with Cressida

Pandarus: “Come, come, here she is now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me – why do you not speak to her? So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. Build there.”

Troilus: “You have bereft me of all words, lady.”

Pandarus: “Words pay no debts; give her deeds; come on, come on.”

Cressida: “Will you walk in, my lord?”

Troilus: “O Cressida, how often have I wished thus! O let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid’s pageant there is presented no monster.”

Cressida: “Nor nothing monstrous either?”

Troilus: “This is the monstrosity of love, Lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.

Cressida: “They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, are they not monsters?”

Troulus: “Are there such? Such are not we. Allow us as we prove. Troilus shall be such to Cressida as what envy can say worse shall be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus.”

Cressida: “Will you walk in, my lord?”

Re-enter Pandarus

Pandarus: “What, blushing still? Are you not done talking yet?”

Cressida: “Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day for many weary months.”

Troilus: “Why was my Cressida then so hard to win?”

Cressida: “Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord. If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now; but till now not so much but I might master it. But, though I loved you well, I woo’d you not; and yet, good faith, I wished myself a man, or that we women had men’s privilege of speaking first. Stop my mouth.”

Troilus: “And shall.” (He goes to kiss her)

Cressida: “My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. I am ashamed. O heavens! What have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord.”

Troilus: “What offends you, lady?”

Cressida: “Sir, my own company.”

Troilus: “You cannot shun yourself.”

Cressida: “Let me go and try. I have a kind of self resides with you; but an unkind self, that itself will leave to be another’s fool. I would be gone. Where is my wit. I know not what I speak. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; to angle for your thoughts; but you are wise – or else you love not; for to be wise and love exceeds man’s might; that dwells with gods above.”

Troilus: “O that I thought it could be in a woman to feed flames of love; but, alas, I am as true as truth’s simplicity, and simpler than the infancy of truth.”

Cressida: “In that I’ll war with you.”

Troilus: “O virtuous fight, when right with right wars who shall be most right! True swains in love shall in the world to come approve their truth by Troilus. Yet after all comparisons of truth, ‘as true as Troilus’ shall crown up the verse.”

Cressida: “Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and has forgot itself, when water drops have worn the stones of Troy, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing – yet let memory from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood when they have said ‘as false as air, as water, wind, or sandy earth’, yea, let them say ‘as false as Cressida.”

Pandarus: “Go to, a bargain made; seal it; seal it; I’ll be the witness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin’s. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world’s end after my name – call them all Panders; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressidas and all brokers Panderers. Whereupon I will show you a chamber and a bed; away!

Summary and Analysis

This is not a love destined to last and here are Troilus and Cressida at the summit of their relationship. There is no talk of marriage. Pandarus pushes them together as though it were a sexual attraction only: “Rub on; kiss the mistress and build there.” “Words pay no debts; give her deeds. Come on, come on.” “Are you not done talking yet?” “I will show you a chamber and a bed; away!” Troilus is so certain of his love and hence the phrase ‘as true as Troilus’ will be prophetic, as will the phrase ‘as false as Cressida’, given her self doubt and what we know about where this is headed. The scenes that follow will not be kind to them.

Act III

Scene iii

The Greek camp.

Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, Ajax, Menelaus and Calchas

Calchas: “Now, princes, for the services I have done, the advantage of time prompts me aloud to call for recompense. Appear it to your mind that I have abandoned Troy, left my possessions, incurred a traitor’s name, sequestering from me all that time, acquaintance, custom and condition made tame to my nature; and here to do you service. I do beseech you to give me now a little benefit.”

Agamemnon: “What would thou of us, Trojan? Make demand.”

Calchas: “You have a Trojan prisoner called Antenor, yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear. Often have you desired my daughter Cressida in right exchange, whom Troy has still denied; but this Antenor, I know that their negotiations will almost give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, in exchange of him. Let him be sent, great princes, and he shall buy my daughter.”

Agamemnon: “Let Diomedes bear him, and bring Cressida hither. Calchas will have what he requests of us. Good Diomedes, furnish you fairly for this exchange. Withal, bring word if Hector will tomorrow be answered in his challenge. Ajax is ready.”

Diomedes: “This shall I undertake.”

Exit Diomedes and Calchas

Ulysses: “Achilles stands in the entrance of his tent. Please it our general pass strangely by him as if he were forgotten; and, princes all, lay negligent and loose regard upon him. I will come last. Tis likely he will question me. If so I have derision medicinal to use between your strangeness and his pride. It may do good. Pride has no other glass to show itself but pride.”

Agamemnon: “We’ll execute your purpose, and put on a form of strangeness as we pass along. So do each lord; and either greet him not, or else disdainfully, which shall shake him. I will lead the way.”

Achilles: “What comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind. I’ll fight no more against Troy.”

Agamemnon: “What says Achilles? Would be aught with us?”

Nestor: “Would you, my lord, aught with the general?”

Achilles: “No.”

Agamemnon: “The better.”

Achilles: “Good day.”

Menelaus: “How do you?”

Achilles: “What, does the cuckold scorn me?”

Ajax: “How now, Partoclus?”

Achilles: “Good morrow, Ajax.”

Ajax: “Ha?”

Achilles: “Good morrow.”

Ajax: “And good next day too.”

Achilles: “What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles?”

Patroclus: “They pass by strangely. They used to send their smiles to Achilles.”

Achilles: “What, am I poor of late? Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, must fall out with men too. But tis not so with me; fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy all that I did possess, save these men’s looks; who do, methinks, find out something not worthy in me. Here is Ulysses. I’ll interrupt his reading. How now, Ulysses? What are you reading?”

Ulysses: “A strange fellow here writes that man cannot make boast to have that which he has, but by reflection.”

Achilles: “This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne here in the face the bearer knows not, but commends itself to others’ eyes.”

Ulysses: “The author’s drift expressly proves that no man is the lord of anything till he communicate his parts to others. I was much rapt in this; and apprehended here immediately the unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there! Now shall we see tomorrow – an act the very chance does throw upon him – Ajax renowned. O heavens, what some men do, while some men leave to do! How one man eats into another’s pride, while pride is fasting in his wantonness! To see these Greek lords! They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, as if his foot were on brave Hector’s breast, and great Troy shrinking.”

Achilles: “I do believe it; for they passed by me as misers do by beggars – neither gave to me good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot?”

Ulysses: “Time has, my lord, a wallet at his back, wherein he puts arms for oblivion. Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured as fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done. Perseverance, dear my lord, keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang quite out of fashion, in monumental mockery. Take the instant way; keep then the path, for emulation has a thousand sons. Then what they do in present, though less than yours in past, must overtop yours. Let not virtue seek remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit, high birth, vigour of bone, love, friendship, charity, are subjects all to envious and slanderous time. The present eye praises the present object. Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, that all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax, since kings in motion sooner catch the eye than what stirs not. The cry went once on thee, and still it might, and yet it may again, if thou would not entomb thyself alive and case thy reputation in a tent.”

Achilles: “Of this my privacy I have strong reasons.”

Ulysses: “Tis knows, Achilles, that you are in love with one of Priam’s daughters.”

Achilles: “Ha! Known!”

Ulysses: “Is that a wonder? And all the Greek girls shall tripping sing ‘great Hector’s sister did Achilles win; but our great Ajax bravely beat him down’. Farewell, my lord. I as your lover speak. The fool slides over the ice that you should break.”

Exit Ulysses

Patroclus: “To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you. I stand condemned. They think my little stomach for the war and your great love to me restrains you thus. Sweet, rouse yourself.”

Achilles: “Shall Ajax fight with Hector?”

Patroclus: “Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him.”

Achilles: “I see my reputation is at stake; my fame is shrewdly gored.”

Patroclus: “O, then beware; those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves.

Achilles: “Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. I’ll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him to invite the Trojan lords, after the combat, to see us here unarmed. I have a woman’s longing to see great Hector in his weeds of peace, to talk with him, and to behold his visage.”

Enter Thersites

Thesites: “A wonder!”

Achilles:”What?”

Thersites: “Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself. He must fight tomorrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud that he raves in saying nothing. He stalks up and down like a peacock. The man’s undone forever; for if Hector break not his neck in the combat, he’ll break it himself in vain glory. He knows not me. I said ‘good morrow, Ajax’; and he replies ‘thanks Agamemnon’. What thinks you of this man who takes me for the general? He’s grown a very language-less monster. A plague of opinion!”

Achilles: “Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersides.”

Thesites: “Who, I? Why, he’ll answer nobody; he professes not answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in his arms.”

Achilles: “To him, Patroclus, Tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most courageous Hector to come unarmed to my tent.”

Thersites: “What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains I know not.”

Achilles: “Come thou shall bear a letter to him straight.”

Thersites: “Let me carry another to his horse; for that’s the more capable creature.”

Achilles: “My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred; and I myself see not the bottom of it.”

Exit Achilles and Patroclus

Thersites: “Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass with it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance.”

Summary and Analysis

Two topics are brought up in this chunky scene. First we learn that Cressida’s father, Calchas, has successfully arranged to have his daughter exchanged for a Trojan prison of war. So just as things have heated to a rolling boil between Troilus and Cressida we know that they are about to be permanently separated. Next, there is the question of troublesome Achilles. He refuses to fight the Trojans or even talk with Agamemnon. Ulysses has this idea to have all of the warriors give him the cold shoulder and then explain to him that his worth has been negated because now Ajax is the rising star and Achilles’ great achievements on the battlefield are virtually forgotten. What is happening now is all that matters. However, Ulysses does say that Achilles is capable of regaining his reputation if he would but come out of his tent and fight as he is capable. Patroclus agrees with Ulysses and implores Achilles to come around to this idea as well, which, by the end of the scene, he seems to do. So the brains (Ulysses) successfully manipulate the brawn (Achilles). Thersites ends the scene with his summary reflection upon the likes of the two great Greek warriors. On Ajax: “Let me carry a letter to his horse, for that’s the more capable creature.” On Achilles: “I had rather be a tick on a sheep than such a valiant ignorance.”

Act IV (5 scenes)

Scene i

Troy. A street.

Enter on one side Aneas and a servant and on another side Paris, Antenor and Diomedes.

Aneas: “Is the prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long as you, Paris, nothing but heaven business should rob my bed-mate of my company.”

Diomedes: “That’s my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aneas.”

Paris: “A valiant Greek, Aneas – take his hand. Witness the process of your speech, wherein you told how Diomedes, a whole week by days, did haunt you in the field.”

Aeneas: “Health to you, valiant sir, during this gentle truce; but when I meet you armed, as black defiance as heart can think or courage execute.”

Diomedes: “The one and the other Diomedes embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health! But when contention and occasion meet, by Jove, I’ll play the hunter for thy life with all my force, pursuit and policy.”

Aneas: “And thou shall hunt a lion. In humane gentleness, welcome to Troy! By Venus’ hand I swear that no man alive can love in such a sort the thing he means to kill, more excellently.”

Diomedes: “We sympathize. Jove let Aneas live, if to my sword his fate be not the glory. But in my emulous humour let him die with every joint a wound, and that tomorrow.”

Aneas: “We know each other well.”

Diomedes: “We do, and long to know each other worse.”

Paris: “This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, the noblest hateful love, that ever I heard of.”

Aneas: “I was sent for to the king, but why I know not.”

Paris: “His purpose was to bring this Greek to Calchas’ house, and there to render him, for the enforced Antenor, the fair Cressida. My brother Troilus lodges there tonight. Rouse him and give him note of our approach. I fear we shall be much unwelcome.”

Aneas: “That I assure you: Troy would rather Troy be borne to Greece than Cressida borne from Troy.”

Paris: “There is no help; the bitter disposition of the time will have it so. And tell me, noble Diomedes, even in the soul of sound good fellowship, who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best, myself or Menlaus?”

Diomedes: “Both alike: he merits well to have her that doth seek her, as you as well to keep her that defend her. Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more, but he as he, the heavier for a whore.”

Paris: “You are too bitter to your country-woman.”

Diomedes: “She’s bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris: for every false drop in her bawdy veins a Greek life has sunk; for every scruple in her contaminated carrion weight a Trojan has been slain. She has not given so many good words breath as for her Greeks and Trojans who have suffered death.”

Paris: “Fair Diomedes, you dispraise the thing that you desire to buy; but we in silence hold this virtue well: we’ll not commend what we intend to sell.”

Summary and Analysis

Diomedes has arrived from the Greek camp to drop off Antenor to the Trojans and to bring back Cressida to the Greeks. The Trojans know that this will be devastating to Troilus but must be done. There is much interchange between the soldiers on both sides during times of peace. They are rather fascinated by one another, knowing each other quite well from the battlefield. They are very welcoming of one another, all the while acknowledging their desire to slaughter one another as soon as tomorrow on the field of war. Paris asks Diomedes who he believes is more deserving of Helen, himself or Menelaus, who she was taken from. Diomedes seems to think they are both fools for wanting a woman who has caused so much suffering and loss of life. So the debate about Helen is even exchanged between camps as well as within each one.

Act IV

Scene ii

Troy. The court of Pandarus’ house

Enter Troilus and Cressida.

Troilus: “Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. To bed, to bed.”

Cressida: “Are you weary of me?”

Troilus: “O Cressida!”

Cressida: “Night has been too brief.”

Enter Pandarus

Cressida: “A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking.”

Pandarus: “How now! How go maidenheads?”

Cressida: “Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle. You bring me to do it and then you flout me too.”

Pandarus: “To do what? Let her say what. What have I brought you to do?”

Cressida: “Come, beshrew your heart.”

Pandarus: “Ha Ha! Poor Wretch! Have not slept tonight? Would he not, naughty man, let it sleep?”

Knock on door

Cressida: “Who’s at the door? Good uncle, go and see. My lord, come again into my chamber. You smile, as if I meant naughtily. But you are deceived. I think of no such thing.”

More knocking

Cressida: “How earnestly they knock! I would not for half of Troy have you be seen here.”

Pandarus: “Who’s there? What’s the matter?”

Enter Aeneas

Pandarus: “My lord Aeneas? What news with you so early?

Aeneas: “Is not Prince Troilus here?”

Pandarus: “Here! What should he be doing here?”

Aeneas: “Come, he is here, my lord. It does import him much to speak with me.”

Pandarus: “Is he here, you say? Its more than I know.”

Aeneas: “Come, come. You’ll do him wrong; you’ll be so true to him to be false to him. Go fetch him hither; go.”

Enter Troilus

Troilus: “How now! What’s the matter?”

Aeneas: “My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, my matter is so rash. There is at hand Paris, your brother, and the Greek, Diomedes, and our Antenor delivered to us; and for him forthwith, we must give up to Diomedes the lady Cressida.”

Troilus: “Is it so concluded?”

Aeneas: “By Priam and the general state of Troy. They are at hand.”

Troilus: “How my achievements mock me! I will go meet them.”

Exit Troilus and Aeneas

Pandarus: “Is it possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke his neck.”

Enter Cressida

Cressida: “How now? What’s the matter? Why sigh you so profoundly? Where’s my lord? Tell me sweet uncle, what’s the matter?”

Pandarus: “Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! Would’st thou had never been born! I knew thou would be his death! O, poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor!”

Cressida: “Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees, what is the matter?”

Pandarus: “Thou must be gone, wench. Thou art exchanged for Antenor; thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus. T’will be his death. He cannot bear it.”

Cressida: “O you immortal gods! I will not go.”

Pandarus: “Thou must.”

Cressida: “I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father. I know no kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me as sweet Troilus. O you gods divine, make Cressida’s name the very crown of falsehood, if she ever leave Troilus. I will go in and weep, tear my bright hair, scratch my praised cheeks, crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart, with sounding ‘Troilus’. I will not go from Troy.”

Summary and Analysis

A brief and tender love scene is quickly interrupted by a knock on the door that will change their lives forever. Aeneas is there to tell them that Cressida must be exchanged for the prisoner, Antenor. First Troilus is told by Aeneas and then Pandarus tells Cressida. It is a crushing blow. Pandarus tells several bawdy jokes about the night of pleasure enjoyed by Troilus and Cressida. They seem more full of lust than anything else, and Cressida is increasingly the Trojan counterpart to Helen, who Diomedes described earlier as a whore. And as Helen left Menelaus for Paris, so will Cressida choose to enjoy her Greeks once the exchange is complete. We must never forget that Helen is the reason this war has dragged on for seven bloody, senseless years.

Act IV

Scene iii

Troy. A street before Pandarus’ house.

Enter Paris, Troilus, Aeneas, Antenor and Diomedes.

Paris: “It is morning, and the hour prefixed for her delivery to this valiant Greek comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, haste her to the purpose.”

Troilus: “I’ll bring her to the Greek presently.”

Paris: “I know what it is to love, and would, as I shall pity, I could help.”

Summary and Analysis

Ironically, it is Paris, who was on the receiving end of Helen, who informs Troilus, who is on the losing end of Cressida, that the time has come to deliver her up to the Greek, Diomedes. Ouch!

Act IV

Scene iv

Troy. Pandarus’ house.

Enter Pandarus and Cressida

Pandarus: “Be moderate. be moderate.”

Cressida: “Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste. How can I moderate it?”

Enter Troilus

Cressida: ” O Troilus! Troilus!” (They embrace)

Pandarus: “What a pair of spectacles are here! How now, lambs?”

Troilus: “Cressida, I love thee in so strained a purity that the blessed gods take thee from me.”

Cressida: “Have the gods envy?”

Pandarus: “Ay, ay, ay.”

Cressida: “And is it true that I must go from Troy?”

Troilus: “A hateful truth.”

Cressida: “Is it possible?”

Troilus: “And suddenly; where injury rudely beguiles our lips, forcibly prevents our locked embraces, strangles our dear vows, even in the birth of our own labouring breath we two, that with so many thousand sighs did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves.”

Aeneas: “My lord, is the lady ready?”

Troilus: “Hark, you are called.”

Cressida: “I must then to the Greeks?”

Troilus: “No remedy.”

Cressida:”A woeful Cressida amongst the merry Greeks. When shall we see again?”

Troilus: “Be thou but true, and I will see thee. Wear this sleeve.”

Cressida: “And you his glove. When shall I see you?”

Troilus: “I will corrupt the Greek sentinels to give thee nightly visitation. But yet be true.”

Cressida: “O heavens! Be true again!”

Troilus: “Here is why I speak it, love. The Greek youths are full of quality; they are loving, well composed and flowing over with arts and exercise. Alas, a kind of godly jealousy, which I beseech you call a virtuous sin, makes me afeared. Be not tempted.”

Cressida: “Do you think I will?”

Troilus: “No. But something may be done that we will not; and sometimes we are devils to ourselves. Come, kiss; and let us part.”

Cressida: “My lord, will you be true?”

Troilus: “Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault!”

Enter Aeneas Paris, Antenor and Diomedes.

Troilus: “Welcome, Sir Diomedes! Here is the lady which for Antenor we deliver you; entreat her fair, and, by my soul, dear Greek, if ever thou stand at mercy of my sword, name Cressida, and thy life shall be as safe as Priam is in Troy.”

Diomedes: “Fair lady Cressida, the lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, pleads your fair usage; and to Diomedes you shall be fair mistress, and command him wholly.”

Troilus: “Greek, thou does not use me courteously to shame the zeal of my petition to thee in praising her. I tell thee she is as far high-soaring over thy praises as thou unworthy to be called her servant. I charge thee use he well; for by the dreadful Pluto, if thou does not, though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, I’ll cut thy throat.”

Diomedes: “O, be not moved, Troilus, when I am hence I will answer to my lust. To her own worth she shall be prized.”

Exit Troilus, Cressida and Diomedes

Paris: “Hark, Hector’s trumpet.”

Aeneas: “How have we spent this morning! The prince must think me tardy and remiss, that swore to ride before him to the field.”

Paris: “Tis Troilus’ fault. Come, to the field.”

Aeneas: Yes. Let us tend on Hector’s heels. The glory of our Troy does this day lie on his fair worth and single chivalry.”

Summary and Analysis

Troilus and Cressida mourn their imminent separation. They vow to remain true to one another, although Troilus fears Cressida may succumb to the beauty of the many Greek youth. He has even more to worry about once he turns her over to Diomedes, who says that she will be his mistress and will answer to his lust. A trumpet sounds, indicating that it is time for the fight between Ajax and Hector.

Act IV

Scene v

The Greek camp

Enter Ajax armed, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses and Nestor.

Agamemnon: “Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air may pierce the head of the great combatant, and hail him hither.”

Ajax: “Now, trumpet, there’s my purse. Now crack thy lungs; blow, villain. Come stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood: thou blows for Hector.”

Ulysses: “No trumpet answers.”

Enter Diomedes with Cressida

Agamemnon: “Is not yonder Diomedes with Calchas’ daughter? Is this the lady Cressida?”

Diomedes: “Even she.”

Agamemnon: “Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, dear lady.”

Nestor: “Our general does salute you with a kiss.”

Achilles: “I’ll take that winter from your lips, fair lady. Achilles bids you welcome.”

Menelaus: “I had good argument for kissing once.”

Patroclus: “But that’s no argument for kissing now; for thus popped Paris, and parted thus you and your argument.”

Ulysses: “O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.”

Patroclus: “The first was Menelaus’ kiss, this, mine.” (he kisses her again) “Paris and I kiss evermore for him.”

Cressida: “In kissing, do you render or receive?”

Patroclus: “Both take and give.”

Ulysses: “May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you?”

Cressida: “You may.”

Ulysses: “I do desire it.”

Cressida: “Why, beg then.”

Ulysses: “Why then, for Venus’ sake, give me a kiss, when Helen is a maid again and his.”

Cressida: “I am your debtor; claim it when it is due.”

Diomedes: “Lady, I’ll bring you to your father.”

Exit Cressida and Diomedes

Ulysses: “Fie, fie upon her! There is language in her eye, her cheek, her lips, nay, her foot speaks and her wanton spirit looks out at every joint and move of her body. Set them down for sluttish spoils of opportunity.”

All: “The Trojan trumpet!”

Enter Hector armed, Aeneas, Troilu and Paris

Aeneas: “Hail, all the state of Greece! What shall be done to him who victory commands? Hector bade ask.”

Agamemnon: “Which way would Hector have it?”

Aeneas: “He cares not; he’ll obey conditions. If not Achilles, sir, what is your name?”

Achilles: “If not Achilles, nothing.”

Aeneas: “Therefore Achilles. But whatever, know this: valour and pride excel themselves in Hector. Weigh him well. This Ajax is half made of Hector’s blood. Hector comes to seek this blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.”

Enter Diomedes

Agamemnon: “Here is Sir Diomedes. Stand by our Ajax. As you and Lord Aeneas consent upon the order of their fight, so be it.”

Ajax and Hector enter

Agamemnon: “What Trojan is that same who looks so heavy?”

Ulysses: “The youngest son of Priam. Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; not soon provoked, nor being provoked soon calmed. Manly as Hector, but more dangerous. They call him Troilus, and on him erect a second hope as fairly built as Hector. Thus says Aeneas, one who knows the youth even to his inches, and, with private soul, did in great Troy thus translate him to me.”

Ajax and Hector fight

Nestor: “Now, Ajax, hold thy own!”

Troilus: “Hector, thou sleeps. Awake thee.”

Agamemnon: “His blows are well disposed. There, Ajax.”

Trumpet sounds

Diomedes: “You must no more.”

Aeneas: “Princes, enough, so please you.”

Ajax: “I am not warm yet; let us fight again.”

Diomedes: “As Hector pleases.”

Hector: “Then will I no more. Thou art, great lord, my father’s sister’s son, a cousin to great Priam’s seed; the obligation of our blood forbids a gory emulation twixt us. Let me embrace thee, Ajax. By him that thunders, thou has lusty arms; Hector would have them fall upon him thus. Cousin, all honour to thee!”

Ajax: “I thank thee, Hector. Thou art too gentle. I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence a great addition earned in thy death.”

Hector: “Ajax, farewell.”

Ajax: “I would desire my famous cousin to our Greek tents.”

Diomedes: “Tis Agamemnon’s wish; and great Achilles does long to see unarmed the valiant Hector.”

Hector: “I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.”

Ajax: “Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.”

Hector: “The worthiest of them tell me name by name; but for Achilles, my own searching eyes shall find him by his large and portly size.”

Agamemnon: “Worthy all arms! From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.”

Hector: “I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.”

Agamemnon: (to Troilus) “My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you.”

Menelaus: “Let me confirm my princely brother’s greeting.”

Hector: “Who must we answer?”

Aeneas: “The noble Menelaus.”

Hector: “O you, my lord? Mock not that I affect the untrained oath; your wife swears still by Venus’ glove. She’s well, but bade me not commend her to you.”

Menelaus: “Name her not now, sir; she’s a deadly theme.”

Hector: “O pardon; I offend.”

Nestor: “I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee often, labouring for destiny, make cruel way though ranks of Greek youth. That I have said to some of my standers-by ‘Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!’ And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, when that a ring of Greeks have hemmed thee in, like an Olympian wrestling. This have I seen; but this thy countenance, still locked in steel, I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, and once fought with him. He was a soldier good, but, by great Mars, never like thee. O, let an old man embrace thee; and worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.”

Aeneas: “Tis the old Nestor.”

Hector: “Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, that has so long walked hand in hand with time. Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.”

Nestor: “I would my arms could match thee in contention, as they contend with thee in courtesy.”

Hector: “I would they could.”

Nestor: “Ha! By this white beard, I’d fight with thee tomorrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time.”

Ulysses: “Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue, my prophesy is but half his journey yet; for yonder walls, that front your town, must kiss their own feet.”

Hector: “I must not believe you. There they stand yet, and modestly I think the fall of every Trojan stone will cost a drop of Greek blood. The end crowns all; and that old common arbitrator, time, will one day end it.”

Ulysses: “So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome.”

Achilles: “Now, Hector, I have fed my eyes on thee; I have with exact view pursued thee, Hector, and quoted joint by joint.”

Hector: “Is this Achilles?”

Achilles: “I am Achilles.”

Hector: “Stand fair, I pray thee; let me look on thee.”

Achilles: “Behold thy fill.”

Hector: “O, like a book of sport thou will read me over; but there’s more in me than thou understands. Why does thou so oppress me with thine eyes?”

Achilles: “Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body shall I destroy him? Whether there, or there, or there? Answer me, heavens.”

Hector: “It would discredit the blessed gods, proud man, to answer such a question. Henceforth, guard thee well; for I’ll not kill thee there, not there, not there; But, I’ll kill thee everywhere, yea, over and over. You wisest Greeks, pardon me this brag. His insolence draws folly from my lips.”

Ajax: “Do not chafe thee, cousin; and you, Achilles, let these threats alone. You may have every day enough of Hector, if you have stomach.”

Hector: “I pray you let us see you in the field.”

Achilles: “Does thou entreat me, Hector? Tomorrow do I meet thee, fell as death; tonight all friends.”

Agamemnon: “First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; there in the full convive we; afterwards, as Hector’s leisure and your bounties shall concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the tambourines, let the trumpets blow, that this great soldier may his welcome know.”

Exit all but Troilus and Ulysses

Troilus: “My Lord Ulyssess, tell me, I beseech you, in what place of the field does Calchas keep?”

Ulysses: “At Menelaus’ tent, most princely Troilus. There Diomedes does feast with him tonight, who gives all gaze and bent of amorous view on the fair Cressida.”

Troilus: “Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, after we part from Agamemnon’s tent, to bring me hither?”

Ulysses: “You shall command me, sir. As gentle, tell me of what honour was this Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there who wails her absence?”

Troilus: “She was beloved and she loved; she is and does.”

Summary and Analysis

Cressida arrives in the Greek camp and the principle Greek soldiers all line up for kisses. She seems quite comfortable and at ease with the Greeks, enjoying her flirtatious exchanges with them all. There appears to be little regard for her vows to Troilus. It is Ulysses who suggests she be kissed by all the soldiers and when he sees how much she embraces this he determines that she is sluttish and will not kiss her himself. He feels he has exposed her true nature. The scene then shifts to the much heralded contest between Ajax and Hector. Ajax is actually half Greek and half Trojan and Hector does not wish to fight his kin, so they embrace and Hector is invited to visit the various tents of the main Greek warriors, where he is much welcomed. Only Achilles is aggressive, claiming they will fight tomorrow and that he will then and there kill Hector. Hector looks forward to this confrontation and then they all go off to a feast together. Finally, Troilas asks Ulysses where Cressida’s father resides and following the feast Ulysses promises to take Troilus there so he can see Cressida. Ulysses asks Troilus if Cressida had a lover in Troy who ‘wails her absence’. Troilus assure him that ‘she was beloved and loved, and still is and does’. Ulysses may know better.

After Act IV it would seem that only Hector is the honourable warrior on the field. He shows himself as flexible when at first he insists that Helen be returned to the Greeks, as ‘she is not worth the cost of keeping’, but then changes his mind when he hears the opposite opinion expressed so well by Paris and Troilus. No one else ever demonstrates an ability to be so flexible. He enters the contest with Ajax agreeing to any terms and conditions Ajax would prefer. When they fight he stops it almost immediately, stating that he and Ajax are actually related and he prefers that they not harm one another. “Let me embrace thee, Ajax.” The various Greeks invite him to their tents and he is graceful and humble with them all. Only Achilles is quite rude with him and when Hector replies similarly he apologizes to the Greeks for his foolish insolence. In Act V we will see what becomes of this man of honour in this snakepit of treachery, jealousy and extreme egotistical pride.

Act V

Scene I

The Greek camp, before the tent of Achilles.

Enter Achilles and Patroclus

Patroclus: “Here comes Thersites.”

Enter Thersites

Achilles: “How now thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature, what’s the news?”

Thersites: “Why, thou picture of what thou seamest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here’s a letter for thee.”

Achilles: “From whence, fragment?”

Thersites: “Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.”

Patroclus: “Who keeps the tent now?”

Thersites: “Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art said to be Achilles male harlot.”

Patroclus: “Male harlot, you rogue?”

Thersites: “Yes, his masculine whore.”

Patroclus: “Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what means thou to curse thus?”

Thersites: “Do I curse thee?”

Patroclus: “Why, no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no.”

Thersites: “No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idea immaterial silk, thou green flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a purse, thou?”

Patroclus: “Out, gall!”

Thersites: “Finch egg!”

Achilles: “My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite from my purpose in tomorrow’s battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, a token from her daughter, my fair love, both taxing me and gagging me to keep an oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. Fall Greeks. Go or stay. My major vow lies here, this I’ll obey.”

Exit Achilles and Patrolcus

Thersites: “With too much blood and too little brain these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and too little blood they do, I’ll be a curer of madmen. Here’s Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; he is both ass and ox.”

Enter Hector, Trolus, Ajax, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus and Diomenes.

Enter Achilles: “Welcome brave Hector; welcome princes all.”

Agamemnon: “So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.”

Hector: “Thanks and good night to the Greek general.”

Menelaus: “Good night, my lord.”

Hector: “Good night sweet Lord Menelaus.”

Achilles: “Diomedes, keep Hector company an hour or two.”

Diomedes: “I cannot, lord; I have important business, the tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector.”

Ulysses: (aside to Troilus) “Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas’ tent.”

Exit Diomedes; Ulysses and Troilus follow.

Thersites: “That same Diomedes is a false hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him than I will a serpent when he hisses. They say he uses the traitor Calchas’ tent. I’ll after him. Nothing but lechery! All incontnent harlots!”

Summary and Analysis

Thersites is at his acerbic best in this scene, as he pummels both Achilles and Patroclus with great insults. He also delivers a letter to Achilles from the Trojan woman he loves, insisting that he not fight Hector the next day. He will honour her demand. After the feast Hector and Greeks retire but Ulysses notices Diomedes slipping away to see Cressida and invites Troilus to follow him toward Calchas’ tent. Thersites has also noticed this and curses Diomedes as false and unjust. He too follows to observe the lechery. Troilus will not like what he is about to see.

Act V

Scene ii

The Greek camp, before Calchas’ tent

Enter Diomedes

Calchas: (from within his tent) “Who calls?”

Diomedes: “Diomedes. Where is your daughter?”

Calchas: (from within) “She comes to you.”

Enter Troilus and Ulysses at a distance, followed by Thersites

Enter Cressida

Troilus: “Cressida comes forth to him.”

Diomedes: “How now, my charge.”

Cressida: “Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you.”

Diomedes and Cressida whisper

Diomedes: “Will you remember?”

Cressida: “Remember, yes.”

Troilus: “What shall she remember?”

Cressida: “Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly.”

Thersites: “Roguery!”

Cressida: “In faith, what would you have me do?”

Diomedes: “What did you swear you would bestow upon me?”

Cressida: “Prithee, do not hold me to my oath; bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.”

Troilus: “Hold, patience!”

Cressida: “Diomedes.”

Diomedes: “No, no, good night; I’ll be your fool no more.”

Troilus: “O plague and madness!”

Ulysses: “You are moved, prince; let us depart, I pray, lest your displeasure should enlarge itself to wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; the time right deadly; I beseech you, go!”

Troilus: “I prithee, stay. By hell and all its torments, I will not speak a word.”

Diomedes: “And so, good night.”

Cressida: “Nay, but you part in anger.”

Troilus: “By love, I will be patient.”

Cressida: “Why Greek, come hither, once again.”

Troilus: “She strokes his cheek.”

Ulysses: “Come, come.”

Troilus: “Nay, stay a little while.”

Diomedes: “But will you then?”

Cressida: “In faith, I will; never trust me else.”

Diomede: “Give me some token for the purity of it.”

Cressida: “Here, Diomedes, keep this sleeve.”

Troilus: “O beauty! Where is thy faith?”

Cressida: “Look upon that sleeve; Behold it well. He loved me.”

Diomedes: “Who was it? “

Cressida: “It is no matter. I will not meet with you tomorrow night. I prithee, Diomedes, visit me no more.”

Thersites: “Well said, whetstone.”

Diomedes: “Come, tell me whose it was.”

Cressida: “Twas one who loved me better than you will.”

“Diomedes: “Tomorrow I will wear it on my helm, and grieve his spirit who dares not challenge it.”

Cressida: “Well, well, tis done.”

Diomedes: “Why then, farewell; thou never shall mock Diomedes again.”

Cressida: “You shall not go.”

Diomedes: “I do not like this fooling. What, shall I come?”

Cressida: “Ay, come – O Jove – do come.”

Diomedes: “Farewell till then.”

Cressida: “Good night, I pray thee come.”

Exit Diomedes

Cressida “Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; but with my heart the other heart does see. Ah, poor our sex! Tis fault in us I find, the error of our eye directs our mind. What error leads must err. O, then conclude, mind swayed by eyes are full of turpitude.”

Exit Cressida

Thesites: “A proof of strength she could not publish more, unless she said ‘my mind is now turned whore’.”

Ulysses: “All is done, my lord.”

Troilus: “It is.”

Ulysses: “Why stay we then?”

Troilus: “To make a record to my soul of every syllable that here was spoke. Was Cressida here? She was not, surely. I rather think this was not Cressida. This she? No; this is Diomedes’ Cressida. If beauty has a soul, this is not she. If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonious, if sanctimony be the god’s delight, if there be rule in unity itself, this was not she. O madness of discourse, where reason can revolt without perdition, and loss assume all reason without revolt; this is, and is not, Cressida. O instance! Cressida is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. O instance! The bonds of heaven are slipped, dissolved and loosened. The fractions of her faith, the fragments, scraps, bits, and greasy relics of her over-eaten faith, are bound to Diomedes.”

Ulysses: “May worthy Troilus be half-attached with that which here his passion does express?”

Troilus: “Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well. Never did a young man fancy with so eternal and so fixed a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressida love, so much by weight hate I her Diomedes. That sleeve is mine that he’ll bear on his helm. My sword should bite it. O Cressida! O false Cressida! False, false false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, and they’ll seem glorious.”

Thersites: “Would I could meet that rogue Diomedes! I would croak like a raven. Patroclus will give me anything for the intelligence of this whore. Lechery, lechery! Still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them.”

Summary and Analysis

Diomedes meets up with Cressida, as Troilus, joined by Ulysses, looks on. Thersites watches as well. Diomedes and Cressider flirt and whisper. She has apparently made an oath to be his lover and teases him back and forth about whether or not she will. When he tires of this game he threatens to depart and she tells him she will honour her oath and gives him the sleeve that Troilus gave her as a token of their love. They agree to meet that night to consummate their lust. Once Diomedes is gone Cressida, in an aside, bids Troilus farewell. Troilus hears and observes all of this and is heartbroken, still in love with Cressida. Even Thersites is unimpressed by the display: “lechery, lechery.” This love lost by Troilus is one of the tragic outcomes of Shakespeare’s play. A tragedy on the battlefield itself still awaits us.

Act V

Scene iii

Troy, before Priam’s palace

Enter Hector and Andromache, his wife.

Andromache: “Unarm, unarm, and do not fight today.”

Hector: “You train me to offend you. By the everlasting gods, I’ll go. No more, I say.”

Enter Cassandra, his sister

Cassandra: “Where is my brother Hector?”

Andromache: “Here, sister, armed, and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt of bloody turbulence, and this whole night has nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.”

Cassandra: “O, tis true!”

Hector: “Be gone, I say.”

Cassandra: “It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; but vows to every purpose must not hold. Unarm, sweet Hector.”

Hector: “My honour keeps the weather of my fate. Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honour far more precious dear than life.”

Enter Troilus

Hector: “How now, young man; doff thy harness. I am today in the vein of chivalry. Unarm thee, go. I would not have you fight today.”

Troilus: “Who should withhold me? No fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars, not Priam and Hecuba on knees, nor you, my brother, should stop my way, but by my ruin.”

Re-enter Cassandra with Priam

Cassandra: “Lay hold upon him, Priam, and hold him fast.”

Priam: “Come, Hector, come, go back. Thy wife has dreamt; thy mother has had visions; Cassandra does foresee; and I myself am like a prophet suddenly enrapt to tell thee that the day is ominous. Therefore, come back.”

Hector: “Aeneas is in the field and I do stand engaged with many Greeks.”

Priam: “Ay, but thou shall not go.”

Hector: “I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, let me not shame respect; but give me leave to take that course by your consent and voice which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.”

Cassandra: “O Priam, yield not to him!”

Andromache: “Do not, dear father.”

Cassandra: “O, farewell, dear Hector! Look how thou dies. Look how thy eye turns pale. Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out; how poor Andromache shrills; behold distraction, frenzy and amazement, like witless antics, one another meet, and all cry, ‘Hector! Hector’s dead! O Hector!'”

Troilus: “Away, away!”

Cassandra: “Farewell Hector! I take my leave. Thou does thyself and all our Troy deceive.”

Hector: “My liege, go in and cheer the town; we’ll forth and fight, do deeds worth praise and tell you them tonight.”

Priam: “Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee.”

Exit Priam and Hector. Alarums

Troilus: “They are at it, hark! Proud Diomedes, believe, I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve.”

Enter Pandarus

Pandarus: “Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear? Here’s a letter come from yonder poor girl.”

Troilus: “Let me read it.”

Pandarus: “What says she?”

Troilus: “Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; the effect does operate another way.”

Troilus tears the letter

Troilus: “My love with words and errors she still feeds, but edifies another with her deeds.”

Pandarus: “Why but hear you?”

Troilus: “Hence broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame pursue thy life and live with thy name.”

Summary and Analysis

As Hector prepares for battle his wife, mother and sister plead with him not to fight on this day. They have had visions and dreams of his death, but he dismisses them. Priam, his father, also has a foreboding about Hector’s demise but Hector won’t be persuaded off the field. Troilus arrives prepared to fight, even after Hector prefers he not. Pandarus presents a letter for Troilus from Cressida, still professing her love. But having seen and heard all that he has, he tears the letter into pieces and curses Pandarus.

Act V

Scene iv

The plain between Troy and the Greek camp

Enter Thersites

Thersites: “Now they are clapper-clawing one another. I’ll go look on. That dissembling abominable harlot, Diomedes, has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave’s sleeve of Troy there in his helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Trojan ass that loves the whore there might send that Greek whoremasterly villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of a sleeve-less errand. At the other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals – that stale old muse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses – is not proved worth a blackberry. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is their Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm today; whereupon the Greeks begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft, here comes sleeve and the other.”

Enter Diomedes with Troilus following

Troilus: “Fly not; for should thou take the River Styx I would swim after.”

Diomedes: “I do not fly, but have at thee.”

Thersites: “Hold thy whore, Greek; now for thy whore, Trojan – now the sleeve, now the sleeve!”

Exit Troilus and Diomedes fighting

Enter Hector

Hector: “What art thou, Greek? Are thou for Hector’s match? Are thou of blood and honour?”

Thersites: “No, no – I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very filthy rogue.”

Hector: “I do believe thee. Live.”

Thersites: (aside) “God-a-mercy, but a plague break thy neck for frighting me! What’s become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I’ll seek them.”

Summary and Analysis

Thersites begins and ends this scene cursing Troilus and Diomedes, who are fighting each other because of Cressida. So very much foolishness on a battlefield for Thersites to rail upon!

Act V

Scene v

Another part of the plain.

Enter Diomedes and a servant.

Diomedes: “Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus’ horse; present the fair steed to my lady Cressida. Commend my service to her beauty; tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, and am her knight by proof.”

Servant: “I go, my lord.”

Enter Agamemnon

Agamemnon: “Renew, renew! Polixenes is slain; Amphimacus and Thoras deadly hurt; Patroclus is slain; and Palamedes hurt and bruised. Haste we, Diomedes, to reinforcements, or we perish all.”

Enter Nestor

Nestor: “Go, bear Patroclus’ body to Achilles. There are a thousand Hector’s in the field; now here he fights on his horse; anon he’s there afoot; then he is yonder, and there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, fall down before him like the mower’s swath. Here, there and everywhere, he leaves and takes; dexterity so obeying appetite that what he will he does, and does so much that proof is called impossibility.”

Enter Ulysses

Ulysses: “O, courage, courage, princes! Great Achilles is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. Patroclus’ wounds have roused his drowsy blood, together with his mangled Myrmidons, those noseless, handless, hacked and chipped, who come to him, crying for Hector. Ajax has lost a friend and foams at the mouth, roaring for Troilus, who has done today mad and fantastic execution. Engaging and redeeming of himself with such a careless force and foreclose care as if that luck, in very spite of cunning, bade him win all.”

Enter Ajax

Ajax: “Troilus! Thou coward Troilus!”

Achilles: “Where is Hector? Come, thy boy-queller, show thy face; know what it is to meet Achilles’ anger. Hector! Where’s Hector? I will none but Hector.”

Summary and Analysis

You can feel the battle building and yet there are no climactic moments, as Ajax seeks Troilas, and Achilles hunts Hector. The rage is ascending and most of the principals are in evidence. The end is clearly near. All the remaining short scenes are played out on the fields of battle.

Act V

Scxene vi

Another part of the plain

Enter Ajax

Ajax: “Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head.”

Enter Diomedes

Diomedes: “Troilus, I say! Where’s Troilus?”

Ajax: “What wouldst thou?”

Diomedes: “I would correct him.”

Enter Troilus

Troilus: “O traitor Diomedes! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, and pay thy life thou owes me for my horse.”

Ajax: “I’ll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomedes.”

Diomedes: “He is my prize.”

Troilus: “Come, both, you cogging Greeks; I’ll have at you both.”

Exit the three of them, fighting

Enter Hector

Hector: “Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother!”

Enter Achilles

Achilles: “Now I do see thee, ha! Have at thee, Hector!”

Hector: “Pause if thou will.”

Achilles: “I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. Be happy that my arms are out of use; my rest and negligence befriends thee now, but thou anon shall hear of me again: till then, go seek thy fortune.”

Hector: “Fare thee well. I would have been much more of a fresher man, had I expected thee.”

Re-enter Troilus

Hector: “How now, my brother!”

Troilus: “Ajax has taken Aeneas. Shall it be? He shall not carry him. I’ll be taken too, or bring him back.”

Summary and Analysis

Both Ajax and Diomedes search for Troilus, who arrives determined to take on both of them. Hector and Achilles are too tired to fight each other. There is news that Ajax has taken Aeneas. Hardly the stuff of military legend. Shakespeare is deliberately dispelling Homer’s original intention in order to depict these famous fighters as anything but heroic.

Act V

Scene vii

Another part of the plain.

Enter Achilles

Achilles: “Come about me, you my Myrmidons; mark what I say. Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath; and when I have the bloody Hector found, empale him with your weapons round about; in fellest manner execute your arms. It is decreed Hector the Great must die.”

Enter Menelaus and Paris, fighting, watched by Thersites

Thersites: “The cuckhold and the cuckhold-maker are at it.”

Exit Paris and Menelaus

Enter Margarelon

Margarelon: “Turn slave and fight.”

Thersites: “What art thou?”

Margalelon: “A bastard son of Priam’s.”

Thesites: “I am a bastard too; I love bastards. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard. Farewell bastard.”

Margarelon: “The devil take thee, coward.”

Summary and Analysis

Yet another pathetic little scene of cowards where we might expect a great heroic end of the play. Don’t hold your breath.

Act V

Scene viii

Another part of the plain

Enter Hector

Hector: “Now is my day’s work done; I’ll take good breath: rest, sword; thou has thy fill of blood and death!”

Enter Achilles and his Myrmidons

Achilles: “Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set. To close the day up, Hector’s life is done.”

Hector: “I am unarmed; forego this vantage, Greek.”

Achilles: “Srike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.”

Hector is slain

Achilles: “Come, Troy, sink down; here lies thy heart, thy sinews and thy bones. On, Myrmidons, Achilles has the mighty Hector slain. Come, tie his body to my horse’s tail; along the field I will the Trojan trail.”

Summary and Analysis

In Homers’ Illiad, Hector is slain fair and square, in honest battle. Here, Shakespeare has him underhandedly murdered by shameless Achilles. The one man of honour in the entire play is slain while unarmed by a pack of thugs. Two Trojans, Troilus and Hector, are the tragic figures in this rendering. The war will last another three years, when the Greeks will use trickery once again, with the apparent gift of a Trojan horse. No wonder the Gods sympathetic to the Trojans will plague Ulysses all the way home for ten years in the sequel.

Act V

Scene ix

Another part of the plain.

Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor and Diomedes and others

Agamemnon: “Hark! Hark! What shout is this?”

Soldiers: ” Achilles! Achilles! Hector is slain. Achilles!”

Diomedes: “Hector is slain by Achilles.”

Ajax: “Great Hector was as good a man as he.”

Agamemnon: “Great Troy is ours and our sharp wars are ended.”

Summary and Analysis

The news spreads and the Greeks celebrate Achilles having slain Hector. There is no mention of how it was done. Ajax, ever jealous of Achilles, claims that Hector was as good a man as Achilles, and Agamemnon believes that the end of Hector means the end of the war, which is simply not so. It will continue for three more years.

Act V

Scene x

Another part of the plain

Enter Aeneas, Paris and Antenor

Aeneas: “Stand ho! Yet are we masters of the field. Never go home.”

Enter Troilus

Troilus: “Hector is slain.”

All: “Hector! The gods forbid!”

Troilus: “He’s dead and at the murderer’s horse’s tail, in beastly sort, dragged through the shameful field. Who shall tell Priam or Hecuba? Go in to Troy and say there that Hector is dead. Hector is dead. There is no more to say.”

Enter Pandarus

Pandarus: “Hear you! Hear you!”

Troilus: “Hence broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame pursue thy life.”

Exit all but Pandarus

Pandarus: “A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world! World! Thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how ill you are requited! Why should our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so loathed?”

Pandarus: (epilogue) “Good traders in the flesh, as many as be here in Pander’s hall, your eyes weep out at Pander’s fall. Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Till then I’ll sweat and seek about for eases, and at that time bequeath you my diseases.”

Summary and Analysis

Cressida’s infidelity and Achille’s treachery are the twin anti-climaxes of the play. All’s fair in love and war, indeed. In this final scene Aeneas insists that the Trojans remain masters of the field despite the loss of Hector. The news of Hector is devastating to the Trojans. Pandarus shows up at the absolute worst time and greets Troilus, who once again curses him. Then Pandarus concludes this bitter play with the bitterest of endings, referring to himself as the poor agent despised and wondering why his endeavour was so loved but his performances so loathed. Finally, Pandarus turns to the audience and concludes the play as though he were Thersites, crassly bequeathing his diseases upon them (us). A perfectly grotesque ending for a tragically grotesque play of great genius and intelligence.

Final thoughts

This is not an easy play to either read or witness. So many unlikable characters in a tragic tale of deception and corruption, its merit lies in some of Shakespeare’s finest language and speeches and several memorable reflections expressed by certain individuals, such as Thersites, Hector and Ulysses. The love story begins with great promise as does our expectation of these warriors we know from Homer’s rendering. But both lovers and warriors alike faulter and fumble aplenty, providing ample ammunition for the disapproving critic, Thersites. Troilus and Cressida are doomed from the start, with Pandarus light heartedly pulling the strings to bring them together in lust. The war itself becomes something of a comedy of errors, as most of the best fighters on both sides are profoundly distracted by their own personal affairs and inflated egos. Menelaus wants his Helen back, who Paris enjoys immensely. Achilles is far too interested in his young boy lover than in coming out of his tent to fight. Ajax is depicted as a mindless dolt. Enough of the Greeks are convinced that getting Helen back is worth the cost they pay in blood and enough Trojans feel it is all worth keeping her. And so it goes on and on. The futility of war has seldom been so convincingly presented. When they are not fighting each other they routinely cross the lines and mingle with their enemies in friendship and comradery. Hector is the most honourable of the warriors and suffers the most dishonourable death, treacherously murdered by a band of Achilles’ thugs. Ulysses tries to use his wisdom to end the war but nothing works out as planned. He will eventually concoct the Trojan Horse trickery to finally win the war for the Greeks.

Shakespeare’s source, other than Homer himself, is Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde, a well known story in Shakespeare’s day. After Shakespeare’s death the next staging we are aware of is in 1907. The Royal Shakespeare Company resurrects Troilus and Cressida on a very regular basis. There has also been a well regarded version set in the U.S. Civil War. Youtube, as usual, has several full stage productions and a significant amount of clips and analysis.  If you type into Youtube ‘Marjorie Garber Shakespeare lectures’ you will unearth a treasure of Harvard lectures by professor Garber entitled ‘Shakespeare After All: the Later Plays’, wherein 12 of his later works are examined in just under two hours each. Troilus and Credit is one of them. Ms. Graber is incredibly insightful and has written a highly recommended book, also entitled ‘Shakespeare After All’, in which she analyzes all 38 plays. It is available on Amazon. Excellent stuff!

Coriolanus

Introduction

Coriolanus is a heroic soldier in ancient Rome who cannot compromise or accommodate enough to make the transition into the political arena. This play has the most modern of applications, insofar as it is a primer on grooming a candidate for public office, complete with both handlers and critics. There are many ways to read Coriolanus. One can experience it through the lens of the Roman history it portrays, the Elizabethan period of Shakespeare’s composition or through the ever-shifting present, wherever it is staged. Typical of Shakespeare plays, Coriolanus tells various stories simultaneously, and the focus depends upon which characters and themes are placed in the forefront. We can concentrate our attention on Coriolanus himself, the heroic great man and tragic namesake of the story, who is the author of his own fate. It is also possible to encounter the play from the vantage point of the voice of the disempowered common class of people in Rome, or we can emphasize the experience of the women, both their marginalization and influence. And through all of these evident lenses, Shakespeare, as always, does not judge or demonstrate any preferences of one perspective over another.

There are several excellent characters in this play other than Coriolanus himself. His mother is a powerful voice, especially in the ear of her son. There is no sense of compromise in either of them, and he is wholeheartedly his mother’s prodigy. When we encounter his mother, we understand her son. Aufidius, the leader of the Volscians and Coriolanus’s greatly admired but hated rival, ultimately strips him of both his power and his life, but only after the two intimately bond as both soldiers and men. Menenius is Coriolanus’s old friend, who does his very best to broker a peace between the Senate and the people, but is never able to garner his friend’s complicity in his efforts. Cominius is the master orator and Roman consul, who urges Coriolanus to do what he simply cannot, which is to use social grace and verbal eloquence to win over the common people to his cause and thus be elected as consul. Coriolanus is required to play a role and perform a part, as politicians must, in order to achieve his goal, but he becomes hopelessly enraged as soon as he encounters the detested commoners who must decide his fate. They easily bait him and he loses all hope of their support. When he is banished from the city, he joins forces with his enemies, the Volscian tribes, led by Aufidius, and plans to attack his home, which has abandoned him. Only his powerful mother convinces him in the eleventh hour to abort these plans to destroy Rome and this reaffirmation of his bond to his home seals his fate with Aufidius and the Volscian army. Coriolanus is similar to all of Shakespeare’s titanic tragic heroes, with their courage and ambition on the one hand and their insecurities and stubborn pride on the other. Coriolanus is just another tragic individual whose personal obsessions turn against him, prevent him from functioning in the wider world he does not fully understand, and which ultimately destroys him. He is a man with exceptional military skill, who cannot negotiate or maneuver beyond the battlefield. When there is no more enemy to kill but only political opponents to convince and persuade, he is doomed.

Act I (10 scenes)

Scene I

Rome. A street

A group of mutinous citizens

1 Citizen: “You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?”

All: “Resolved.”

1 Citizen: “First, you know, Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.”

All: “We know it.”

1 Citizen: “Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price.”

All: “No more talking on it; let it be done.”

2 Citizen: “One word, good citizens.”

1 Citizen: “The Leannes that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.”

2 Citizen: “Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcus?”

1 Citizen: “Against him first; he’s a very dog to the commonality.”

2 Citizen: “Consider you what services he has done for his country?”

1 Citizen: “Very well, but he pays himself in being proud. I say unto you, what he has done famously he did to please his mother and to be proud.”

2 Citizen: “What he cannot help in his nature you account a vice in him.”

1 Citizen: “He has faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. Why stay we prating here? To the Capitol! Soft! Who comes here?”

Enter Menenius, friend to Caius Marcius

2 Citizen: “Worthy Menenius; one who has always loved the people.”

1 Citizen: “He’s one honest enough; would all the rest were so!”

Menenius: “Where go you with bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.”

1 Citizen: “Our business is not unknown to the Senate; they have had inkling this fortnight of what we intend to do, which now we’ll show them in deeds.”

Menenius: “Why, masters, my good friends, will you undo yourselves?”

1 Citizen: “We cannot, sir; we are already undone.”

Menenius: “I tell you, friends, most charitable care have the patricians of you. For your wants you may as well strike at the heavens with your staves as lift them against the Roman state. You slander the helms of the state, who care for you like fathers when you curse them like enemies.”

1 Citizen: “Care for us! They never cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain. There’s all the love they bear us.”

Menenius: “The senators of Rome digest things rightly and you shall find no public benefit which you receive but it proceeds from them to you and no way from yourselves.”

Enter Caius Marcius

Menenius: “Hail, noble Marcius!”

Marcius: “Thanks. What’s the matter you dissentious rogues, who, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, make yourselves scabs. What would you have, you curs, who like neither war nor peace? The one affrights you, the other makes you proud. He who trusts you, where he should find you lions, finds you hares. Who deserves greatness deserves your hate; and your affections are a sick man’s appetite, who desires most that which would increase his evil. He who depends open your favours swims with fins of lead. Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind and call him noble who was now your hate, him vile who was your garland. What’s the matter that you cry against the noble Senate, who keep you in awe, which else would feed on one another? What’s their seeking?”

Menenius: “For corn at their own rates, whereof they say the city is well stored.”

Marcius: “Hang em! Would the nobility let me use my sword, I’d make a quarry with thousands of these quartered slaves, as high as I could pick my lance. Hang em!”

Menelius: “What is granted them?”

Marcius: “Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms. Go get you home, you fragments.”

Enter a messenger, hastily.

Messenger: “Where is Caius Marcius?”

Marcius: “Here. What’s the matter?”

Messenger: “The news is, sir, the Volscians are in arms.”

Marcius: “I am glad on it.”

Enter Generals Cominius and Titus Lartius and Brutus and Sicinius, tribunes of the people.

1 Senator: “Marcius, tis true that the Volscia are in arms.”

Marcius: “They have a leader, Aufidius, and I sin in envying his nobility; and were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he. He is a lion who I am proud to hunt.”

1 Senator: “Then, worthy Marcius, attend upon Cominius to these wars. (to the citizens) Hence to your homes; be gone.”

Citizens steal away, except for Sicinius and Brutus, tribunes.

Sicinius: “Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?”

Brutus: “He has no equal.”

Sicinius: “Nay, but his taunts!”

Brutus: “The present wars devour him! He has grown too proud.”

Analysis

The main issues are immediately evident as the play opens with a group of common citizens, or plebeians, expressing their extreme displeasure with the ruling class, or patricians, and their Senate. They are hungry and are rioting for the right to set what they believe would be a fair price for grain, and they lay the blame at the feet of Caius Marcius (later known as Coriolanus), a patrician war hero, who always makes clear his extreme disdain for the common people. The crowd meets up with Menenius, a patrician who they actually like because he speaks respectfully to them, something Marcius is incapable of doing. Menenius tries to convince the mob that the Patricians have their best interests at heart and uses a metaphor to help them understand. He compares the Senate of Rome to the stomach of the human body. The stomach is the storehouse for all of the nutrients, which then get dispensed throughout the entire body, just as the Senators dispense grain and all services throughout the body of Rome. Menenius may not care for the plebeians any more than Marcius does, but he behaves as one who loves the people. He has the gift of subtle persuasion, a quality Marcius utterly lacks, and will be his downfall. When Marcius encounters the group he immediately hurls insults at them, calling them curs and cowards. A messenger arrives with news that the Volscian tribe is preparing for war with Rome. Marcus, who will serve glowingly in this war, speaks with respect for the Volscian military commander, Aufidius, who he has fought against repeatedly. The stage is set. Marcius and the patricians are at severe odds with the plebeians while Marcius, the war hero, is set to once again face Aufidius and the Volscian tribes.

Act I

Scene ii

Corioli, capital of the Volscians. The Senate house.

Enter Aufidius and Senators of Corioli

1 Senator: “So, your opinion is, Aufidius, that they of Rome know how we proceed.”

Aufidius: “Is it not yours? I have letters here.”

1 Senator: “Our army is in the field; we never yet made doubt but Rome was ready to answer us.”

Aufidius: “Nor did you keep your great pretences veiled till when they need show themselves, which in the hatching, it seemed, appeared to Rome. By this discovery we shall be shortened in our aim, which was to take in many towns before Rome should know we were afoot.”

2 Senator: “Noble Aufidius, take your commission and let us alone to guard Corioli. I think you’ll find they have not prepared for us.”

Aufidius: “O, doubt not that! I speak from certainties. Some parcels of their power are forth already. If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, tis sworn between us we shall ever strike till one can do no more.”

All: “The gods assist you.”

Analysis

This entire little scene profiles Aufidius, the Volscian military leader, and two of their senators. It is agreed that the Romans are well aware of what the Volscian leaders hoped would be a surprise attack. But when the senators argue that Rome will be nonetheless ill prepared for the offensive, Aufidius vehemently disagrees. He knows the Romans and he knows Marcius. They have sworn to fight to the death if they should ever meet in the field again. There is only one main character we have yet to encounter and she is coming up next.

Act I

Scene iii

Rome. Marcius’ house.

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Caius Marcius

Volumnia: “If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender bodied, and the only son of my womb, I was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him from whence he returned his brows bound with oak. He had proved himself a man.”

Virgilia: “But had he died in the business, madam, how then.”

Volumnia: “Then his good report should have been my son. Had I a dozen sons and none less dear than my good Marcius, I had rather have eleven die nobly for their country. Methinks I hear your husband’s drum; see him pluck Aufidius down by the hair. His bloody brow.”

Virgilia: “His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood!”

Volumnia: “Away you fool! It more becomes a man. The breasts of Hecuba, looked not lovelier than Hector’s forehead when it spit forth blood at a Grecian sword.”

Virgilia: “Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!”

Volumnia: “He’ll beat Aufidius’ head in and tread upon his neck.”

Enter Valeria, Virgilia’s friend

Valeria: “How does your little son?”

Volumnia: “He had rather see he swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.”

Valeria: “Tis a very pretty boy. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go again, and after it again until he did so set his teeth upon it and tear it. Tis a noble child. The Volscians have an army forth, against whom Comidius the general is gone, with on part of our Roman power. Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before the city of Corioli.”

Analysis

Here we meet the mother, Volumnia, the woman behind the man, and the main contributor to Marcus’ war-like character and his ineffectiveness beyond the battlefield. She speaks of how proud she is of him as a soldier and how much she celebrates his bloody wounds. This is the story of Marcus the soldier, but it is also the story of Marcius, the mama’s boy. We hear the story of young Marcus capturing a butterfly and tearing it apart with his teeth. Volumnia hopes her son will crush Aufidius and the Volscian forces in the coming war. She has raised him to be a ruthless warrior, but as we will see, he is little else. We learn that Marcius is about to lead a force of Roman soldiers in a siege of the Volscian city of Corioli, precisely what he does best.

Act I

Scene iv

Before Corioli

Enter Marcius, Titus Lartius (Roman general) and many soldiers

Marcius: “Yonder comes news. Say, has our general met the enemy?”

Messenger: “They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet.”

Marcius: “How far off lie these armies?”

Messenger: “Within a mile and a half.”

Enter two Volscian senators

Marcius: “Is Aufidius within your walls?”

1 Senator: “There is Aufidius. List what work he makes amongst your army.”

Marcius: “O, they are at it!”

Enter the army of the Volscians

Marcus: “Now fight and advance. He who retires, I’ll take for a Vlosce and he shall feel my edge.”

The Romans are beat back to their trenches. Re-enter Marcius, cursing.

Marcius: “All the contagion of the south light on you, you shames of Rome! You herd of boils and plagues! You souls of geese who bear the shapes of men, how have you run from slaves who apes would beat! I’ll leave the foe and make my wars on you. If you stand fast we’ll beat them. Follow me!”

The Volscians fly and Marcus follows them to the gates.

Marcius: “So, now the gates are open. Mark me and do the like.”

Marcius enters the gates.

1 Soldier: “Fool hardiness; not I.”

2 Soldier: “Not I.”

Marcius is shut in.

Titus Lartius: “What has become of Marcius?”

All: “Slain, sir, doubtless.”

1 Soldier: “He is himself alone, to answer all the city.”

Lartius: “O noble fellow!”

Re-enter Marcius, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy.

1 Soldier: “Look, sir.”

Lartius: “Let’s fetch him off.”

They fight, and all enter the city

Analysis

Marcius and his soldiers approach Corioli and are beat back by the Volscian ar. Marcius verbally blasts his own soldier for their cowardess and then singlehandedly pursues the enemy in though their own gates, where he is shut in alone with them and thought to be dead. At the end of the scene he is discovered fighting the Volscesians on his own and his fellow Romans join the battle. This scene is intended to show us Marcus the unparalleled warrior at his finest.

Act I

Scene v

Within Corioli.

Enter Romans with spoils

1 Roman: “This will I carry to Rome.”

2 Roman: “And I this.”

Enter Marcius and Titus Lartius

Marcius: “There is the man of my soul’s hate, Aufidius, piercing our Romans.”

Lartius: “Worthy sir, thou bleeds. Thy exercise has been too violent for second course of fight.”

Marcius: “Sir, praise me not; my work has yet not warmed me. The blood I drop is rather physical than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear and fight.”

Lartius: “Now the fair goddess, Fortune, fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms misguide thy opposer’s swords. Thou worthiest Marcus.!”

Exit Marcius

Analysis

The legend continues. Marcius, covered in blood, insists on returning right back into the battle: “My work has not yet warmed me.” He badly wants a piece of Aufidius.

Act I

Scene vi

Near the camp of Cominius

Enter Cominius

Cominius: “Breathe you, my friends. Well fought, we have come off like Romans.”

Enter a messenger

Cominius: “Thy news?”

Messenger: “The citizens of Corioli have issued and given to Lartius and to Martius battle.”

Enter Marcius:

Cominius: “Who is yonder that does appear as he were flayed? O gods! He has the stamp of Marcius. How is it with Titus Lartius?”

Marcius: “Holding Corioli in the name of Rome.”

Cominius: “But how prevailed you?”

Marcius: “Will the time serve to tell? Where is the enemy? Are you lords of the field? If not, why cease you till you are so?”

Cominius: “Marcius, we have at disadvantage fought, and did retire to win our purpose.”

Marcius: “I do beseech you, by all the battles wherein we have fought, by the blood we have shed together, by the vows we have made, that you directly set me against Aufidius, and that you not delay.”

Cominius: “Though I could wish you were conducted to a gentle bath and balms applied to you, yet dare I never deny your asking: take your choice of those that best can aid your action.”

Marcius: “Those are they who most are willing. If any such be here who love this painting wherein you see me smeared; if any think brave death outweighs bad life and his country dearer than himself, follow Marcius.”

Analysis

Cominius asks ‘Who’s yonder that does appear as he were flayed? He has the stamp of Marcius.’ Of course its Marcius, who still keeps fighting and seeking out single combat with Aufidius. Drenched in his own blood, he gathers brave men who will not stop fighting. Here is a true hero to Rome, and yet this is a tragedy and his heroism only will last as long as these wars. Shakespeare is setting us up for his fall.

Act I

Scene vii

The gates of Corioli

Enter Titus Lartius, having set guards around Corioli.

Titus Lartius: “Let the ports be guarded. If we lose the field we cannot keep the town.”

Analysis

There are 7 scenes played out in act I around the various battlefields. Shakespeare does not generally display the skirmishes of his lead warriors. They would not be easy to depict on limited stages where his theatre company played. There is that famous opening scene in Henry V where chorus begs us to imagine the battle before Agincourt: “On your imaginary forces work. Think when we talk of horses that you see them.” But in Coriolanus we actually bear witness to the scenes of war so that we may bear witness to the heroism of Marcius. By act two these wars will have ended and we will see an entirely different Marcius, who, like Richard III, will frown upon the times of peace and in them find that the world of politics is fraught with danger and tragedy.

Act I

Scene viii

A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps.

Enter Marcius and Aufidius

Marcius: “I’ll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee worse than a promise breaker.”

Aufidius: “We hate alike.”

Marcius: “Tis not my blood wherein you see me masked.”

Aufidius: “Were thou Hector, you should not escape me here.”

Here they fight and Volscians come to the aid of Aufidius. Marcus fights until they are all driven away breathless.

Analysis

We witness the first encounter between Marcius and Aufidius. They declare their hate for one another and Marcius once again gets the better of Aufidius, who must flee from Marcus with his fellow soldiers. There is actually quite the love-hate between them, as will become increasingly evident. They are clearly the two finest warriors on the battlefield whenever they meet.

Act I

Scene ix

The Roman camp

Enter Cominius and Marcius with soldiers

Cominius: “If I should tell thee over this thy day’s work, thou would not believe thy deeds; but I’ll report it where the senators shall mingle tears with smiles; where great patricians shall attend and where the dull tribunes shall say against their hearts, ‘we thank the gods our Rome has such a soldier.'”

Marcius: “I have done as you have done – that’s what I can for my country.”

Cominius: “Rome must know the value of her own.”

Marcius: “I have some wounds upon me and they smart to hear themselves remembered.”

Cominius: “Too modest are you. Therefore be it known to all the world that Caius Marcius wears this war’s garland, and from this time, for what he did before Corioli, call him Caius Marcus Coriolanus. Bear the addition nobly and forever.”

All: “Caius Marcius Coriolanus!”

Analysis

Henceforth Caius Marcus will be known simply as Coriolanus in honour of his heroism in and around the Volscian city of Corioli. This is his apex, as he prepares to return to Rome to be considered for consul, a position which must earn the approval of the common plebeians.

Act I

Scene x

The camp of the Volscians

Enter Aufidius, bloody, with soldiers

Aufidius: “The town is taken. I would I were a Roman. ‘Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee; so often has thou beat me.’ By the elements, if ever again I meet him, he’s mine or I am his; or craft may get him.”

1 Soldier: “He’s the devil.”

Aufidius: “Bolder, though not so subtle. Where I find him would I wash my fierce hand in his heart.”

Analysis

Aufidius is bitter and humiliated, having been beaten in single combat by Marcius on five separate occasions. And now Marcius bears the name of the Volsces city he has defeated. Coriolanus is a hated name to Aufidius and the Volscians. Its time to return Rome.

Act II (3 scenes)

Rome. A public place.

Enter Menenius with the two tribunes of the people, Sicinius and Brutus

Menenius: “The people love not Marcius.”

Sicinius: “Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.”

Menenius: “Pray you, who does the wolf love?”

Sicinius: “The lamb.”

Menenius: “Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. In what enormity is Marcus poor in that you two have not in abundance?”

Sicinius: “In pride.”

Brutus: “In boasting.”

Menenius: “You blame Marcus for being proud?”

Brutus: “We do it not alone, sir.”

Menenius: “I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride. O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! Then you should discover a brace of proud, violent, testy magistrates – alias fools – as any in Rome.”

Brutus: “Come sir, come, we know you well enough.”

Menenius: “You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves. You are a pair of strange one. When you speak best it is not worth the wagging of your beards; yet you say Marcius is proud, who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors. I will be bold to take my leave of you.”

Exit Brutus and Sicinius

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia and Valeria

Volumnia: “Honorable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches.”

Menenius: “Ha! Marcius coming home? Is he not wounded?”

Volumnia: “O, he is wounded. I thank the gods for it.”

Menenius: “So do I, if it be not too much. The wounds become him. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?”

Volumnia: “They fought together, but Aufidius got off. He has in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.”

Menenius: “Where is he wounded?”

Volumnia: “In the shoulder and in the left arm. He received in the repulse of the Tarquin seven hurts in the body and he had been that last expedition twenty-five wounds upon him.”

Menenius: “And every gash was an enemy’s grave.”

Enter Cominius, Titus Lartius and Coriolanus.

Herald: “Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight within Corioli gates, where he has won with fame the name Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!”

All: “Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!”

Coriolanus: “No more of this; it does offend my heart. Pray now, no more.”

Cominius: “Look, sir, your mother.”

Coriolanus: “You have, I know, petitioned all the gods for my prosperity.”

Volumnia: “Coriolanus must I call thee?”

Coriolanus: “Would thou have laughed had I come coffined home, who weeps to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, and mothers who lack sons.”

Menenius: “Now the gods crown thee.”

Volumnia: “O, welcome home.”

Menenius: “A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep and I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome!”

Coriolanus: “The good patricians must be visited.”

Brutus and Sicinius come forward

Brutus: “All tongues speak of him. I heard him swear were he to stand for consul, never would he appear in the market-place. We must suggest to the people in what hate he still holds them.”

Sicinius: “His soaring insolence shall touch the people. Their blaze shall darken him forever.”

Enter a messenger

Brutus: “What’s the matter?”

Messenger: “You are sent for to the capitol. Tis thought that Marcius shall be consul. I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and the blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, ladies their scarfs as he passed; the nobles bended as to Jove’s statue and the commoners made a shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. I never saw the like.”

Brutus: “Let’s to the capitol and carry with us ears and eyes for the times.”

Analysis

Tribunes Brutus and Sicinius immediately challenge Menenius about Marcius. They don’t trust Marcius one bit, calling him boastful and proud. You can immediately see that they have it in for him and will do everything they can to prevent him from being made consul, knowing full well he will need the support of the tribunes and the people in order to attain that high post. Marcius comes home to his family and friends as Coriolanus and kneels before his mother, who brags of his many wounds. Brutus and Sicinius make their plans to turn the people against Coriolanus and the lines are drawn. The question is will Coriolanus be capable of the political and oratory skills necessary to persuade the people over to his side, despite his contempt for them. Can the war hero play politics?

Act II

Scene ii

Rome. The capitol

Enter two officers

1 Officer: “Coriolanus is a brave fellow, but he is vengeance proud and loves not the common people.”

2 Officer: “Faith, there have been many great men who have flattered the people, who never loved them. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition.”

1 Officer: “But he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it to him. Now to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes – to flatter them for their love. No more of him.”

Enter the patricians and the tribunes of the people, Coriolanus, Menenius and Cominius

Menenius: “It remains the main point of this meeting to gratify his noble service that has thus stood for his country.”

1 Senator: “Speak, good Cominius. Leave nothing out. Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear what you have nobly done.”

Coriolanus: “Your honour’s pardon. I would rather have my wounds to heal again than hear say how I got them.”

Exit Coriolanus

Menenius: “Proceed, Cominius.”

Cominius: “The deeds of Coriolanus should not be uttered feebly. It is held that valour is the chief virtue and most dignifies the haver of it. If it be, the man I speak of for sixteen years has fought beyond the mark of others. He has proved the best man in the field. In the brunt of seventeen battles he has lurched all swords. For this last, before and in Corioli, his sword, death’s stamp, where it did mark, it took. From face to foot he was a thing of blood, whose every motion was timed with dying cries. Alone he entered the mortal gates of the city, aidless, and struck Corioli like a planet. Until we called both field and city ours he never stood to ease his breast with panting. He covets less than misery itself would give, rewards his deeds with doing them.”

Menenius: “Worthy man! He is right noble. Let him be called for.”

Re-enter Coriolanus

Menenius: “The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased to make thee consul.”

Coriolanus: “I do owe them still my life and services.”

Menenius: “It then remains that you speak to the people.”

Coriolanus: “I do beseech you to let me overleap that custom, for I cannot entreat them to give their suffrage. Please you that I may pass this doing.”

Sicinius: “Sir, the people must have their voices.”

Coriolanus: “It is a part that I shall blush in acting, to brag unto them and to show them the scars that I should hide, as if I had received them for the hire of their breath only!”

Exit all but Brutus and Sicinius

Brutus: “You see how he intends to use the people.”

Sicinius: “May they perceive his intent!”

Brutus: “Come, we’ll inform them of our proceedings here. On to the marketplace. I know they do attend us.”

Analysis

Cominius gives a speech to the Senate, praising Coriolanus, but Coriolanus is so awkward in such a public forum that he cannot even bring himself to hear it. This awkwardness is a glimpse of what is to come. Nonetheless, the Senators are enthusiastic to make him consul. He only needs to do one more thing and that is to speak to the common people, the plebeians and their Tribunes. But this he begs not to have to do. We already knows what he thinks of the people. Even Menenius insists that it is a custom that must be honoured. Brutus and Sicinius overhear Coriolanus try to dismiss the need to speak to the people and they proceed to the marketplace to stir the plebeians against Coriolanus. He is so close to the consulship. Just a bit of politicking and it is his.

Act II

Scene iii

Rome. The Forum.

Enter seven or eight citizens

3 Citizen: “If he tells us his noble deeds, we must also tell him of our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitudes to be ungrateful were to make a monster of the multitudes. If he were to incline to the people, there was never a worthier man.”

Enter Coriolanus with Menenius

Coriolanus: “What must I say? ‘Look, sir, my wounds! I got them in my country’s service, when some certain of your brethren roared and ran from the noise of our drums.’

Menenius: “O my, the gods! You must not speak of that!”

Coriolanus: “Hang them! I would they would forget me.”

Menenius: “You’ll mar all. Pray you speak to them in a wholesome manner.”

Exit Menenius

Enter the citizens

Coriolanus: “Bid them wash their faces and keep their teeth clean. Here they come. You know the cause, sir, of my standing here?”

3 Citizen: “We do, sir; tell us what has brought you to it.”

Coriolanus: “Ay, not my own desire.”

3 Citizen: “How not your own desire?”

Coriolanus: “Twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.”

3 Citizen: “You must think, if we give you anything, we hope to gain by you.”

Coriolanus: “Well then, I pray, your price for the consulship?”

1 Citizen: “The price is to ask for it kindly.”

Coriolanus: “Kindly, sir, I pray let me have it. I have wounds to show you. What do you say?”

2 Citizen: “You shall have it, worthy sir.”

Coriolanus: “A match sir. I have your alms. Adieu.”

Exit the three citizens / Enter two more citizens

4 Citizen: “You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly.”

Coriolanus: “Your enigma?”

4 Citizen: “You have not indeed loved the common people.”

Coriolanus: “You should account me the more virtuous, that I have not been common in my love. Therefore, beseech you I may be consul.”

5 Citizen: “We hope to find you our friend.”

4 Citizen: “You have received many wounds for your country.”

Coriolanus: “I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.”

Both Citizens: “The gods give you joy, sir.”

Exit citizens

Coriolanus: “Most sweet voices! What custom wills, in all things should we do.”

Enter three more citizens

6 Citizen: “He has done nobly.”

7 Citizen: “Therefore, let him be consul and make him a good friend to the people.”

Exit citizens

Coriolanus: “Worthy voices!”

Enter Menenius with Brutus and Sicinius

Menenius: “The tribunes endue you with the people’s voice.”

Coriolanus: “Is this done?”

Sicinius: “The people do admit you.”

Exit Coriolanus and Menenius

Sicinius: “How now, my masters! have you chosen this man?”

1 Citizen: “He has our voice, sir.”

Brutus: “We pray to the gods he deserves your love.”

2 Citizen: “He mocked us when he begged our voices.”

3 Citizen: “He flouted us downright.”

1 Citizen: “No, he did not mock us.”

2 Citizen: “He used us scornfully. He should have showed us his marks of merit, wounds received for his country.”

All: “No man saw them.”

3 Citizen: “He said he had wounds he could show.”

Brutus: “He was your enemy and even spoke against your liberties. If he should still malignantly remain foe to the plebeians, your voices might be curses to yourselves.”

Sicinius: “You should have taken advantage of his choler and passed him up unelected.”

Brutus: “Do you think that his contempt shall not be bruising to you when he has power to crush?”

3 Citizen: “He’s not confirmed; we may deny him yet.”

2 Citizen: “And will deny him.”

Brutus: “Get you hence instantly, and tell your friends they have chosen a consul who will from them take their liberties, make them of no more voice than dogs, who are often beat for barking.”

Sicinius: “Let them assemble, and on a safer judgment, revoke your ignorant election. Say you chose him more after our commandment than as guided by your own true affections, and that your minds made you against the grain to voice him consul. Lay the fault on us.”

Brutus: “Ay, spare us not.”

Sicinius: “He’s your fixed enemy.”

2 Citizen: “We will do so and and repent his election.”

Exit the Plebians

Brutus: “Let them go. If, as his nature is, he falls into a rage with their refusal, both observe and answer the vantage of his anger.”

Sicinius: “To the capitol, come. We will be there before the stream of people, who we have goaded onward.”

Analysis

Coriolanus, nervous as he is, does manage to convince the plebeian citizens to admit him to consul. After Coriolanus departs, the two tribunes, Brutus and Sicinius, manipulate the people into believing they made a mistake and they reverse their decision and head to the capital an angry mob, prepared to say they were told by the tribunes to approve Coriolanus for consul, against their better judgment. The people are fickle, to be sure, but Coriolanus did not help himself much, barely containing his contempt for the plebeians, and not even showing them his many wounds.

Act III (3 scenes)

Scene i

Rome. A street.

Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Titus Lartius and Senators.

Coriolanus: “Aufidius and the Volscians then stand ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road upon us again. Saw you Aufidius?”

Lartius: “He did curse against the Volscians, for they had so vilely yielded the town.”

Coriolanus: “Spoke he of me?”

Lartius: “He did, my lord.”

Coriolanus: “How? What?”

Lartius: “How often he had met you, sword to sword; that of all things upon the earth he hated your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes so he might be called your vanquisher. At Antium he lives.”

Coriolanus: “I wish I had a cause to seek him there, to oppose his hatred fully.”

Enter Brutus and Sicinius

Sicinius: “Pass no further.”

Coriolanus: “Ha! What is that?”

Brutus: “It will be dangerous to go on.”

Coriolanus: “What makes this change?”

Cominius: “Has he not passed the noble and the common?”

Brutus: “Cominius, no. The people are incensed against him.”

Coriolanus: “Are these your herd? Must these have voices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on?”

Menenius: “Be calm, be calm.”

Coriolanus: “It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot to curb the will of the nobility; suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule nor ever will be ruled.”

Brutus: “Call it not a plot. The people cry you mocked them; and of late, when corn was given them gratis, you called them time-pleasers, flatterers and foes to nobleness.”

Sicinius: “You show too much of that for which the people stir; if you will pass to where you are bound, you must enquire your way with a gentler spirit, or never be so noble as a consul.”

Menenius: “Let’s be calm.”

Cominius: “The people are abused and set upon. This becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus deserved this dishonoured rub.”

Coriolanus: “Tell me of corn!”

Menenius: “Not no, not now.”

Coriolanus: “I say again, in soothing them we nourish against our Senate the cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, which we ourselves have ploughed, sowed and scattered by mingling them with us, the honoured number, who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that which they have given to beggars. As for my country, I have shed my blood.”

Brutus: “You speak of the people as if you were a god.”

Sicinius: “Tis well we let the people know it. It is a mind that shall remain a poison where it is and not poison any further.”

Coriolanus: “Shall remain! Hear you this triton of the minnows? Mark you his shall? Thus do we debase the nature of our seats, and make the rabble call our cares fears; which will in time break open the locks of the Senate and bring in the crows to peck the eagles.”

Brutus: “Enough!”

Coriolanus: “Your dishonour mangles true judgment and bereaves the state of that integrity which should become it, not having the power to do the good it would, for the ill which does control it.”

Brutus: “He has said enough.”

Sicinius: “He has spoken like a traitor and shall answer, as traitors do.”

Coriolanus: “Thou wretch!”

Brutus: “Manifest treason!”

Sicinius: “This a consul? No.”

Brutus: “Let him be apprehended.”

Sicinius: “Go call the people.”

Coriolanus: “Hence old goat! Hence, rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones out of thy garments.”

Sicinius: “Help, ye citizens!”

Enter a rabble of plebs.

Menenius: “On both sides more respect.”

Sicinius: “Here’s he who would take from you all your power.”

Brutus: “Seize him!”

Plebeians: “Down with him! Down with him!”

Patricians: “Peace! Peace! Peace!”

Menenius: “I am out of breath; confusion’s near; I cannot speak.”

Sicinius: “Hear me, people, peace!”

Plebeians: “Let’s hear our tribune, peace! Speak!”

Sicinius: “You are at point to lose your liberties. Marcus would have all from you.”

Menenius: “Fie, fie, fie! This is the way to kindle, not to quench.”

1 Senator: “To unbuild the city.”

Sicinius: “What is the city but the people?”

Plebians: “True, the people are the city.”

Cominius: “That is the way to lay the city flat, to bring the roof to the foundation, and bury all in heaps and piles of ruins.”

Sicinius: “This deserves death.”

Brutus: “We do here pronounce Marcius is worthy of present death.”

Sicinius: “Therefore lay hold of him; bear him to the Tarpeian rock and from thence into destruction cast him.”

Brutus: “Seize him.”

Plebeians: “Yield, Marcius, yield.”

Coriolanus draws his sword.”

Menenius: “Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.”

Brutus: “Lay hands upon him.”

Plebeians: “Down with him! Down with him!”

Coriolanus: “I would they were barbarians, as they are. On fair ground I could beat forty of them.”

Menenius: “I could myself take up the two tribunes.”

Exit Coriolanus with others

Menenius: “His nature is too noble for the world. His heart is his mouth; what his breast forges, his tongue must vent; and, being angry, does forget that ever he heard the name of death.”

Sicinius: “Where is this viper who would depopulate the city and be everyman himself? He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock with rigorous hands.”

1 Citizen: “He shall well know the noble tribunes are the people’s mouths and we their hands.”

Menenius: “Sir, do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt with modest warrant. Hear me speak, as I know the consul’s worthiness.”

Sicinius: “Consul! What consul?”

Menenius: “The consul Coriolanus.”

Brutus: “He consul?”

Plebeians: “No, no, no, no, no!”

Sicinius: “We are peremptory to dispatch this viperous traitor. It is decreed he dies tonight.”

Menenius: “Now the good gods forbid that our renowned Rome should now eat up her own.”

Sicinius: “He is a disease that must be cut away.”

Menenius: “What has he done to Rome that’s worthy of death? Killing our enemies, the blood he has lost, by many an ounce, he dropped for his country.”

Brutus: “We’ll hear no more. Pursue him to his house and pluck him hence, lest his infection spread further.”

Menenius: “Consider this: he has been bred in the wars and is ill-schooled in bolted language. Give me leave, and I’ll go to him and undertake to bring him where he shall answer by a lawful form, in peace, to his utmost peril.”

1 Senator: “Noble tribunes, it is the humane way; the other course will prove too bloody, and the end of it is unknown to the beginning.”

Sicinius: “Noble Menenius, be you then as the people’s officer. Masters, lay down your weapons and meet on the market-place. We’ll attend you there, where, if you bring not Martius, we’ll proceed in our first way.”

Menenius: “I’ll bring him to you.”

Analysis

Coriolanus learns that Aufidius and the Volsces may be planning an attack on Rome. Just then the tribunes arrive and declare that the people will not accept Coriolanus as consul. Coriolanus launches into a litany of viscous verbal attacks on the plebeians and their tribunes. As a result the people attempt to seize him and have him executed. Coriolanus flees the scene and Menenius convinces the angry mob to hear Coriolanus speak directly to them. Coriolanus has unwisely exposed himself to be the enemy of the people the plebeians suspected he was all along. Now he is in a battle with the people, a situation he is infinitely more comfortable with than having to win over their approval and convince them of his good will toward them. Nonetheless, at Menenius’ urging, the people are willing to hear from him directly one last time before rendering their harsh judgment and punishment.

Act III

Scene ii

Rome. The house of Coriolanus.

Enter Coriolanus with patricians.

Coriolanus: “Let them pull all about my ears, present me death on the wheel or at wild horses’ heels. Yet will I still be thus to them. I muse my mother does not approve of me.”

Enter Volumnia

Coriolanus: “I talk of you; why did you wish me milder? Would you have me false to my nature?”

Volumnia: “You might have been enough the man you are with striving less to be so.”

Coriolanus: “Let them hang.”

Volumnia: “Ay, and burn too.”

Menenius: “Come, come; you have been too rough. You must return and mend it.”

1 Senator: “There’s no remedy, unless, by not so doing, our good city cleave and perish.”

Volumnia: “Pray be counselled; I have a heart as little apt as yours, but yet a brain that leads my use of anger to better advantage.”

Menenius: “Well said, noble woman.”

Coriolanus: “What must I do?”

Menenius: “Return to the tribunes and repent what you have spoke.”

Coriolanus: “For them! Must I do it?”

Volumnia: “You are too absolute. I have heard you say, honour and policy in the wars do grow together. Grant that and tell me, in peace what each of them by the other lose that they combine not there.”

Coriolanus: “Tush, tush! Why force you this?”

Volumnia: “Because it now lies on you to speak to the people. I pray now, my son, go to them and say thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils, you have not the soft way which, thou does confess, were fit for thee to use, as thy to claim, in asking their good loves.”

Menenius: “This but done, their hearts are yours.”

Volumnia: “Prithee, now, go.”

Cominius: “I have been in the market-place, and sir, tis fit you defend yourself by calmness. All is anger.”

Menenius: “Only fair speech.”

Cominius: “I think it will serve, if he can thereto frame his spirit.”

Volumnia: “He must and will. Prithee, say you will and go about it.”

Coriolanus: “Must I with my base tongue give to my noble heart a lie that it must bear? Well then, I’ll do it. To the market-place!”

Cominius: “Come, we’ll prompt you.”

Volumnia: “I prithee now, sweet son, my praises made thee first a soldier, so, to have my praise for this, perform a part thou has not done before.”

Coriolanus: “Well, I must do it. Away, my disposition, and possess me some harlot’s spirit! My throat of war be turned into a pipe as small as a eunuch. A beggar’s voice make motion through my lips, and my armed knees bend like his that receives alms! I will not do it, lest I teach my mind a most inherent baseness.”

Volumnia: “At thy choice then, come all to ruin. I mock at death with as big a heart as thou. Thy valiantness was mine, thou sucked it from me; but owe thy pride thyself.”

Coriolanus: “Pray, be content, mother, I am going to the market-place; chide me no more. Look, I am going and I’ll return consul.”

Cominius: “The tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself to answer mildly; for they are prepared with accusations.”

Coriolanus: “I will answer in my honour.”

Menenius: “Ay, but mildly.”

Coriolanus: “Mildly be it then – mildly.”

Analysis

Coriolanus has no intention of appealing to the mob of people on his own behalf until his mother pleads her case. Even then he vacillates until she finally gets firm with him and he relents: “Be content, mother. I am going to the market-place. Chide me no more.” And the dutiful son finally agrees to appeal to the people on behalf of his mother. His heart is not in it but he simply cannot disappoint his mother and this is his only chance at being consul and not being run out of Rome or executed by the people he despises.

Act III

Scene iii

Rome. The forum.

Enter Brutus and Sinicius

Brutus: “Will he come?”

Roman official: “He’s coming.”

Sicinius: “Assemble presently the people hither.”

Brutus: “Put him to choler straight. He is used to conquering; being once chafed, he cannot be reigned again to temperance.”

Enter Coriolanus, Menenius and Cominius

Sicinius: “Well, here he comes.”

Coriolanus: “I do beseech you to keep Rome in safety and the chairs of justice supplied with worthy men! Plant love among us! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, and not our streets with war.”

Menenius: “A noble wish.”

Coriolanus: “Hear me speak. Shall I be charged no further than this present? Must all be determined here?”

Menenius: “Lo, citizens, the warlike service he has done, consider; think upon the wounds his body bears. Consider further, that when he speaks not like a citizen, you find him like a soldier; do not take his rougher accents for malicious sounds, but, as I say, such as becomes a soldier.”

Sicinius: “Answer to us. We charge that you have contrived to take Rome into a power tyrannical, for which you are a traitor to the people.”

Coriolanus: “How – traitor? Call me traitor? Thou injurious tribune!”

Sicinius: “Mark you this, people?”

Plebeians: “To the rock, to the rock with him!”

Sicinius: “Peace! What you have seen him do and heard him speak, cursing you, opposing laws, and here defying those whose great powers must try him – even this deserves extremest death.”

Brutus: “But since he has served well for Rome -“

Coriolanus: “What do you know of service? You!”

Menenius: “Is this the promise you made your mother?”

Coriolanus: “I’ll go no further. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death vagabond exile, flaying; I would not buy their mercy at the price of one fair word.”

Sicinius: “For that he has from time to time envied against the people, seeking means to pluck away their power, in the name of the people, and in the power of us the tribunes, we, from this instant, banish him from our city, never more to enter our Roman gates.”

Plebeians: “Let it be so; he is banished!”

Cominius: “Hear me, my common friends – “

Sicinius: “No more hearing.”

Brutus: “There is no more to be said but that he is banished as an enemy to the people and his country. It shall be so.”

Plebeians: “It shall be so! It shall be so!”

Coriolanus: “You common cry of curs, whose breath I hate and whose love I prize as the red carcasses of unburied men who do corrupt my air – I banish you! Let every feeble rumour shake your heart and may your enemies fan you into despair! Despising for you the city, thus I turn my back; there is a world elsewhere.”

Exit Coriolanus, Cominius, Menenius and other patricians

Plebeians: “Our enemy is banished; he is gone!”

Sicinius: “Go see him out the gates and give him deserved vexation.”

Analysis

Coriolanus comes before the people one last time to humble himself in their presence in order to be granted the position of consul. He has been coached by his mother, his friends and his fellow patricians, but no one can make this soldier into an able politician. Once the people confront him he falls apart and goes on the attack, sealing his fate, which is his banishment from Rome. It was all within his immediate reach. Indeed, does pride cometh before the fall. But there are two entire acts remaining, and much drama.

Act IV (7 scenes)

Scene i

Rome. Before the gates of the city.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius

Coriolanus: “Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell. The beast with many heads butts me away. Nay mother, where is your ancient courage? You were used to say that extremities were the triers of spirits; that common chances common men could bear; that when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.”

Virgilia: “O heavens! O heavens!”

Volumnia: “Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome and occupations perish!”

Coriolanus: “Cominius, droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother. I’ll do well yet.”

Volumnia: “My son, wither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius with thee awhile; determine on some course.”

Virgilia: “O the gods!”

Cominius: “I’ll follow thee a month, devise with thee where thou shalt rest.”

Coriolanus: “Fare ye well; bring me to outside the gate. Come, bid me farewell and smile.”

Menenius: “Worthily said. Come, let’s not weep. If I could shake off but one and seven years from these old arms and legs, by the gods, I’d with thee every foot. Give me thy hand.”

Analysis

So there goes the banished Coriolanus. His family and friends have joined him to the gates of the city and are watching him disappear into the unknown. If you are waiting for a penetrating soliloquy a la Hamlet, Lear, Othello or Macbeth, you are definitely in the wrong play. He does not express his inner conflict. But he is a man of honour, who otherwise could have told the people what they wanted to hear and been accepted as consul. He is who he is, a great warrior. That’s it. He is a man of action and not reflection or deep thought and, in that sense, is rather the opposite of Hamlet.

Act IV

Scene ii

Rome. Enter the two tribunes

Sicinius: “Bid them all home; he’s gone. The nobility are vexed, who have sided on his behalf.”

Brutus: “Now that we have shown our power, let us seem humbler after it is done than when it was a-doing.”

Sicinius: “Bid them home. Say that their great enemy is gone.”

Brutus: “Here come his mother.”

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia and Menenius

Sicinius: “Let’s not meet her.”

Brutus: “Why?”

Sicinius: “They say she’s mad.”

Brutus: “They have taken note of us.”

Volumnia: “You have banished him who struck more blows for Rome than thou has spoken words. Bastards and all! Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! Twas you who incensed the rabble.”

Brutus: “Pray, let’s go.”

Volumnia: “Ere you go, hear this: my son and this lady’s husband, whom you have banished, exceeds you all.”

Brutus: “Well, well; we’ll leave you now.”

Volumnia: “I wish the gods had nothing else to do but to confirm my curses.”

Menenius: “You have told them home. You’ll sup with me?”

Volumnia: “Anger’s my meat; I sup upon myself, and so shall starve with feeding.”

Menenius: “Fie, fie, fie.”

Analysis

Brutus and Sicinius are clearing the people and sending them home when they run into Volumnia, who condemns their deeds and curses them. The people have won the day and Volumnia has lost her son.

Act IV

Scene iii

A highway between Rome and Antium

Enter a Roman named Nicanor and a Volscian, meeting

Nicanor: “I am a Roman, and my services are against them. Know you me yet?”

Volscian: “Nicanor?”

Nicanor: “The same, sir.”

Volsian: “What’s the news in Rome?”

Nicanor: “There have been in Rome strange insurrections: the people against the senators, patricians and nobles.”

Volscian: “Our state is in a most warlike preparation, and hopes to come upon them in the heat of their division.”

Nicanor: “The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of the worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people, and to pluck from them their tribunes forever.”

Volsian: “Coriolanus banished!”

Nicanor: “Banished, sir.”

Volsian: “You will be welcomed with this intelligence, Nicanor.”

Nicanor: “Your noble Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country. Have you an army ready?”

Volsian: “A most royal one, to be on foot at an hour’s warning.”

Nicanor: “I am joyful to hear of their readiness. Let us go together.”

Analysis

A Roman spy for the Volscians informs a Volscian that Rome is deeply divided over the banishment of Coriolanus and that this is a golden opportunity for Aufidius and his army to strike at Rome. The Volscian suggests that their army is indeed poised to strike. It is time to find out where Coriolanus has chosen to go, which will drive the plot the remainder of the way through the play.

Act IV

Scene iv

Antium. Before Aufidius’s house.

Enter Coriolanus, disguised

Coriolanus: “A goodly city is this Antium. Tis I who made thee widows. Then know me not, lest the wives with spits and boys with stones, in puny battle slay me.”

Enter a citizen

Coriolanus: “Direct me, if it be your will, where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium?”

Citizen: He is, and feasts the nobles at his house tonight.”

Coriolanus: “Which is his house?”

Citizen: “This here before you.”

Coriolanus: “Thank you, sir; farewell.”

Exit citizen

Coriolanus: “O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, inseparable, shall within this hour, on dissension break out to bitterest enmity; so fellest foes shall grow dear friends. So with me: my birthplace hate I, and my love’s upon this enemy town. I’ll enter. If he slay me, he does fair justice; if he give me way, I’ll do his country service.”

Analysis

The secret is out. Coriolanus has come to Antium to combine forces with Aufidius to attack the Rome he once loved but now despises.

Act IV

Scene V

Antium. Aufidius’s house

Enter Coriolanus

Coriolanus: “A goodly house.”

Enter 1 Servant

1 Servant: “What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here is no place for you: pray, go to the door.”

Exit 1 Servant

Coriolanus: “I have deserved no better in being Coriolanus.”

Enter 2 Servant

2 Servant: “Whence are you, sir? Pray, get you out.”

Coriolanus: “Away!”

2 Servant: “Away? Get you away.”

Enter 3 Servant and 1 Servant

3 Servant: “What fellow is this?”

1 Servant: “A strange one as ever I looked on. I cannot get him out of the house.”

3 Servant: “What have you to do here fellow? What are you?”

Coriolanus: “A gentleman.”

3 Servant: “A marvellous poor one.”

Coriolanus: “True, so I am.”

3 Servant: “Pray you, poor gentleman, here is no place for you.” (to 2 Servant) “Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.”

2 Servant: “And I shall.”

Enter Aufidius with 2 Servant

Aufidius: “Where is this fellow?”

2 Servant: “Here, sir.”

Aufidius: “Whence comes thou? What would thou? Thy name? Speak, man. What’s thy name?”

Coriolanus: “A name unmusical to the Volscian ear, and harsh in sound to thine.”

Aufidius: “Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face bears a command in it.”

Coriolanus “Prepare thy brow to frown. Know me yet?”

Aufidius: “I know thee not. Thy name?”

Coriolanus: “My name is Caius Marcius, who has done to thee particularly, and to all the Volscians, great hurt and mischief; therefore witness my surname: Coriolanus. The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood shed for my thankless country, are requited but with that surname – only that name remains. The cruelty and envy of the people, permitted by our dastard nobles, who have all forsook me, have devoured the rest, and have suffered me by the voice of slaves to be whooped out of Rome. This extremity has brought me to thy hearth, in mere spite, to be more quit of those my banishers. Make my misery serve thy turn; for I will fight against my cankered country with the spleen of all the under-fiends. I also present my throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; which not to cut would show thee but a fool, since I have ever followed thee with hate, drawn tons of blood out of thy country’s breast, and cannot live but to thy shame, unless it be to do thee service.”

Aufidius: “O Marcius, Marcius! Each word thou has spoke has weeded from my heart a root of ancient envy. All noble Marcius, let me wind my arms around that body. Here I clip the anvil of my sword, and do contest as hotly and as nobly with thy love as ever in ambitious strength I did contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married; but that I see thee here, thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart than when I first my wedded mistress saw bestride my threshold. Thou has beat me out twelve several times , and I have nightly since dreamt of encounters between thyself and me – we have been down together in my sleep, unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat – and waked half dead with nothing. O come in, and take our friendly senators by the hands, who now are here, prepared against your territories.”

Coriolanus: “You bless me, gods!”

Aufidius: “Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou will have the leading of thine own revenges, take the one half of my commission, since thou knows thy country’s strength and weakness and whether to knock against the gates of Rome or rudely visit them in parts remote to frighten and destroy them. But come in. Let me commend thee first to those who shall say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than ever an enemy.”

Exit Coriolanus and Aufidius

Enter 2 servants

1 Servant: “Here’s a strange alteration.”

2 Servant: “I’ll be sworn, he is simply the rarest man in the world.”

1 Servant: “I take him to be a great soldier.”

Enter 3 Servant

3 Servant: “O slaves, I can tell you news, you rascals!”

1 and 2 Servants: “What, what, what?”

3 Servant: “I would not be a Roman, of all nations.”

1 and 2 Servants: “Wherefore, wherefore?”

3 Servant: “Why, here’s he who was wont to thwack our general – Caius Marcius. Our general himself makes a mistress of him. He’ll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Roman gates by the ears; he will mow down all before him. He will do it!”

1 Servant: “When goes this forward?”

3 Servant: “Tomorrow today, presently.”

2 Servant: “Why then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron and increase ballad makers.”

1 Servant: “Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war’s a destroyer of men.”

2 Servant: “Tis so; and as war in some sort may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.”

1 Servant: “Ay, and it makes men hate one another.”

3 Servant: “Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money.”

Analysis

Coriolanus arrives at Aufidius’s house and eventually encounters his great rival. He explains that he has been banished from Rome and has come to offer his services to Aufidius and the Volscian army. Although he claims that Aufidius would be a fool not to cut his that, in fact, Aufidius welcomes him as he would a lover. ‘Let me twine my arms around that body… Thou noble thing, I see thee here more dances my rapt heart than when I first my wedded mistress saw.’ They begin to make their plans together on the assault of Rome. Coriolanus has clearly settled his fate upon revenge against the Romans who have banished him. The scene concludes with the three servants declaring their love for war, which promises to imminently return with the appearance of Coriolanus, who lives for it.

Act IV

Scene vi

Rome. A public place.

Enter the Tribunes Sicinius and Brutus

Sicinius: “We hear not of him, neither need we fear him. His remedies are tame. The present peace and the quietness of the people here do make his friends blush that the world goes well; behold our tradesmen singing in their shops and going about their functions friendly.”

Enter Menenius

Sicinius: “Hail, sir!”

Menenius: “Hail to you both.”

Sicinius: “Your Coriolanus is not much missed, but by his friends. The commonwealth does stand.”

Menenius: “All is well, and might have been much better if he could have temporized.”

Sicinius: “Where is he, hear you?”

Menenius: “Nay, I hear nothing and his mother and wife hear nothing from him.”

Brutus: “Caius Martius was a worthy officer in the war, but insolent, ambitious and self-loving. Rome sits safe and still without him.”

Enter an official

Official: “Worthy tribunes, there is a slave who reports the Volscians have entered the Roman territories, and with the deepest malice destroy what lies before them.”

Menenius: “Tis Aufidius, who, hearing of our Marcius banishment, thrusts forth his horns again into the world.”

Brutus: “Go see this rumourer whipped. It cannot be.”

Menenius: “Cannot be? We have record that it can. Reason with this fellow, before you punish him, where he heard this.”

Sicinius: “I know this cannot be.”

Brutus: “Its not possible.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “The nobles in great earnestness are going to the Senate House, for some news has come that turns heir countenances. The report has been seconded and more. Marcius has joined with Aufidius and leads a great power against Rome. He vows revenge.”

Menenius: “This is unlikely.”

Enter 2 Messenger

2 Messenger: “You are sent for to the Senate. A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius, associated with Aufidius, rages upon our territories.”

Enter Cominius

Cominius: “O, you have made good work. You have helped to ravish your own daughters and to see your wives dishonoured. Marcius is their god; he leads them like a thing made by some other diety than nature. And they follow him against us brats with no less confidence than boys pursuing butterflies or butchers killing flies.”

Menenius: “You have made good work, you and your apron men.”

Cominius: “He’ll shake your Rome about your ears.”

Brutus: “But is this true?”

Cominius: “Ay, and you’ll look pale before you find it other.”

Menenius: “We are all undone unless the noble man have mercy.”

Cominius: “Who shall ask it? The tribunes cannot do it for shame.”

Cominius: “You have brought a trembling upon Rome.”

Both Tribunes: “Say not we brought it.”

Menenius: “Was it we? We loved him, but like cowardly nobles, gave way under your clusters, who did boot him out of the city. You are they who made the air unwholesome when you cast your stinking greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus’ exile. Now he’s coming.”

Plebians: “We hear fearful news.”

1 Citizen: “For my part, when I said banish him, I said ’twas pity.'”

2 Citizen: “And so did I.”

3 Citizen: And so did I. We did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will.”

1 Citizen: “I ever said we were in the wrong when we banished him.”

Brutus: “I do not like this news.”

Sicinius: “Nor I.”

Brutus: “Would half my wealth would buy this for a lie.”

Analysis

Disturbing word arrives that Coriolanus has joined with Aufidius and is leading a Volsian army on Rome. Cominius and Menenius immediately turn on the two tribunes, laying all the blame right at their feet. How fickle the people are. After soundly and willfully banishing Coriolanus, now they are back pedaling, as he returns to wreak havoc on those who banished him.

Act IV

Scene vii

A camp a short distance from Rome

Enter Aufidius and his lieutenant.

Aufidius: “Do they still fly to the Roman?”

Lieutenant: “I do not know what witchcraft is in him, but your soldiers use him as the grace before meat; and you are darkened in this action, sir.”

Aufidius: “He bears himself more proud than I thought he would when I first did embrace him.”

Lieutenant: “Yet I wish, sir, you had not joined in commission with him.”

Aufidius: “I understand thee well.”

Lieutenant: “Think you he’ll carry Rome?”

Aufidius: “All places yield to him. I think he’ll be to Rome as is the osprey to the fish, who takes it by sovereignty of nature. When, Caius, Rome is thine, thou art poorest of all: then shortly thou art mine.”

Analysis

The writing is on the wall for Act V, as Aufidius has already grown weary of Coriolanus. The allegiances and alliances are fickle. The Romans were prepared to make Coriolanus consul and then they banished him. Aufidius was his great and passionate rival, but they nearly fell in love with one another, until Aufidius envisions his finally victory over him after the fall of Rome. Coriolanus was once the great military hero of a Rome he is preparing to destroy. There is much to be reconciled as we venture into Act V, which is what Shakespeare does best.

Act V (6 scenes)

Scene i

Rome. A public place.

Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius and Brutus

Menenius: “No, I’ll not go. Go, you who banished him and kneel the way into his mercy.”

Cominius: “He would not seem to know me. I urged our old acquaintance and the drops that we have bled together. He would not answer to it. He was a kind of nothing.”

Menenius: “No, I will not meddle.”

Sicinius: “Pray you go to him.”

Menenius: “What should I do?”

Brutus: “Only make trial what your love can do for Rome.”

Menenius: “I’ll undertake it. I think he’ll hear me. Yet to bite his lip at good Cominius much unhearts me.”

Brutus: “You know the very road into his kindness and cannot lose your way.”

Cominius: “He’ll never hear him. I kneeled before him; twas very faintly he said ‘Rise’ and dismissed me with his speechless hand. All hope is in vain unless his noble mother, who, as I hear, means to solicit him for mercy to his country. Therefore, let’s haste them on.”

Analysis

Cominius went out to speak with Coriolanus and was rejected. Now the tribunes are pleading with Menenius to attempt to persuade Coriolanus to call off the attack on Rome. Menenius agrees but Cominius is convinced that only his mother can get through to him. Mother has her ways!

Act V

Scene ii

The Volscian army camp before Rome.

Enter Menenius to the watch on guard.

1 Watch: “Stay. Whence are you?”

2 Watch: “Stand and go back.”

Menenius: “I am an officer of state and come to speak with Coriolanus.”

1 Watch: “You may not pass. Our general will no more hear from thence.”

2 Watch: “You’ll see your Rome embraced with fire before you speak with Coriolanus.”

Menenius: “Good, my friends, if you have heard your general talk of Rome and of his friends there, my name has touched your ears: it is Menenius. I must have leave to pass”

1 Watch: “If you are a Roman than you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; therefore, back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemned. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood. Back.”

Enter Coriolanus with Aufidius

Coriolanus: “What is the matter?”

Menenius: “O my son! My son! Thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here’s water to quench it.”

Coriolanus: “Away!”

Menenius: “How away!”

Coriolanus: “Wife, mother, child I know not. That we have been familiar, ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather than pity note how much. Therefore be gone. My ears against your suits are stronger than your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee, take this along. (he hands Menenius a letter) Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, was my beloved in Rome.”

Exit Coriolanus and Aufidius

1 Watch: “Now, sir, your name is Menenius?”

2 Watch: “Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home.”

Menenius: “Let your general do his worst. For you, be that your misery increases with your age. I say to you as I was said to: away!”

Analysis

Cominius was right. Coriolanus would not receive Menenius and rejected him as he rejected Cominius. Only one hope remains and here she comes.

Act V

Scene iii

The tent of Coriolanus

Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius

Coriolanus: “This last old man, who I have sent back to Rome, loved me above the measure of a father.”

Aufidius: “You have stopped your ears against the general suit of Rome, never admitting a private whisper.”

Enter in mourning habits Virgilia, Volumnia and young Marcius

Coriolanus: “My wife comes foremost, then the honoured mould wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand the grandchild to her blood. But out, affection! All bonds break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. My mother bows and my young boy has an aspect of intercession which great nature cries ‘Deny not’. Let the Volscians plough Rome and harrow Italy. I’ll stand as if a man were author of himself and knew no other kin.”

Virgilia: “My lord and husband!”

Coriolanus: “These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. Like a dull actor now I have forgot my parts. Best of my flesh, forgive my tyranny; but do not say ‘forgive our Romans’. And the most noble mother of the world, sink, my knee.” (he kneels)

Volumnia: “O, stand up blest! While with no softer cushion than the flint I kneel before thee and show duty.” (she kneels)

Coriolanus: “What’s this? Your knees to me?”

Volumnia: “Thou art my warrior; I helped to frame thee.”

Coriolanus: “That’s my brave boy.”

Volumnia: “Even he, your wife and myself are suitors to you.”

Coriolanus: “I beseech you, peace! Do not bid me to dismiss my soldiers or capitulate. Tell me not wherein I seem unnatural; desire not to allay my rages and revenges with your colder reasons.”

Volumnia: “No more, no more! You have said you will not grant us anything – for we have nothing else to ask but the which you deny already; yet we will ask, that, if you fail in our request, the blame may hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us.”

Coriolanus: “Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we’ll hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?”

Volumnia: “Think how more unfortunate than all living women are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should make our eyes flow with joy constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, making the mother, the wife and the child to see the son, the husband and the father tearing his country’s bowels out. How can we for our country pray, whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose the country or else thy person; for either thou must as a foreign recreant be led with manacles through our streets, or else triumphantly tread on thy country’s ruin. Thou shall no sooner march to assault thy country than to tread – trust to it, thou shalt not – on thy mother’s womb who brought thee to this world.”

Virgilia: “Ay, and mine who brought you forth the boy to keep your name living to time.”

Coriolanus: “I have sat too long.” (rising)

Volumnia: “Nay, go not from us thus. If our request did tend to save the Romans and thereby destroy the Volscians whom you serve, you might condemn us as poisonous of your honour. No, our suit is that you reconcile them, and each on either side give the all hail to thee, and cry ‘be blest for making up this peace’. Thou knows, great son, the end of war is uncertain; but this is certain, that, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit which thou shall thereby reap is such a name whose repetition will be dogged with curses; whose chronicle thus written: ‘the man was noble, but with his last attempt he wiped it out, destroyed his country, and his name remains to the ensuing age abhorred.’ Speak to me, son. Why do you not speak? Daughter, speak you: he cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: perhaps thy childishness will move him more than can our reasons. There is no man in the world more bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate like one in the stocks. Thou has never in thy life showed thy dear mother any courtesy. Say my request is unjust, and spurn me back, but if it be not so, thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee. He turns away. Down, ladies, let us shame him with our knees. Down. This is the last. So we will home to Rome, and die among our neighbours. Come, let us go. This fellow had a Volscian for a mother; his wife is in Corioli and his child like him by chance.”

Coriolanus holds his mother’s hand

Coriolanus: “O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do open, the gods look down, and this unnatural scene they laugh at. O my mother, my mother! O! You have won a happy victory for Rome. Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, if not most mortal to him. But let it come. Aufidius, although I cannot make true war, I’ll frame a convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, were you in my stead, would you have heard a mother less, or granted less?”

Aufidius: “I was moved withal.”

Coriolanus: “I dare be sworn you were. And sir, it is no little thing to make my eyes sweat compassion. But, good sir, what peace you’ll make, advise me. For my part, I’ll not to Rome, I’ll stay back with you and pray you’ll stand by me in this cause.”

Aufidius: (aside) “I am glad thou has set thy mercy and thy honour at difference in thee. Out of that I’ll work myself a former fortune.”

Coriolanus: (to the ladies) “Ay, we will drink together; and you shall bear a better witness back than words. Come ladies, you deserve to have a temple built to you. All the swords in Italy could not have made this peace.

Analysis

Coriolanus may have saved Rome but he has also sealed his own fate. His mother again has triumphed, convincing him to make peace between the Volscians and Rome, where no one else was able to move him in the least. She convinces him that he can prevent dishonour and be a hero by forging a lasting peace between Rome and the Volscians. However, in saving Rome Coriolanus has betrayed Aufidius, who now sees the opportunity which has always eluded him: to destroy his former enemy. For Coriolanus must now return to Antium and explain himself to the Volscian generals. Volumnia is the great hero here, for she has truly saved Rome. But she cannot save her son from the old jealousy and rage of Aufidius.

Act V

Scene iv

Rome. A public place.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius

Menenius: “ere is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in it; our throats are sentenced. This Marcius has grown from man to dragon.”

Sicinius: “He loved his mother dearly.”

Menenius: “So did he me; what he bids be done is finished with his bidding.”

Sicinius: “The gods be good unto us.”

Menenius: “No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Sir, if you would save your life, fly to your house. The plebians have your fellow tribune, all swearing if the Roman ladies bring not comfort home, they’ll give him death.”

Enter another messenger.

Sicinius: “What’s the news?”

2 Messenger: “Good news, good news! The ladies have prevailed, the Volscians are dislodged and Marcius gone. A merrier day did never yet greet Rome.”

Menenius: “This is good news. I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia is worth consuls, senators and patricians.”

Sicinius: “We’ll meet them.”

Analysis

Menenius despairs that Volumnia will never succeed, having failed himself, when a messenger arrives with the good news that mother has done it again! Rome is saved. Brutus must be relieved, since the plebeians have gotten a hold of him and have determined to put him to death if the ladies fail in their mission.

Act V

Scene v

Rome. A street near the gate.

Enter two senators with Volumnia and Virgilia

1 Senator: “Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Praise the gods, and make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them. Unshout the noise that banished Marcius. Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; welcome, ladies, welcome!”

Analysis

The true hero returns to Rome triumphant. She is the patroness of Rome! Now let’s see what becomes of her son in the play’s final scene.

Act V

Scene vi

Corioli. A public place.

Enter Aufidius

Aufidius: “Him I accuse. He intends to appear before the people, hoping to purge himself with words. Dispatch.”

Enter three conspirators

2 Conspirator: “Most noble sir, we’ll deliver you of your great danger.”

3 Conspirator: “The fall makes the survivor heir of all.”

Aufidius: “I know it; and my pretext to strike at him admits a good construction. I raised him up and I pawned my honour for his truth. He watered his new plants with dews of flattery, seducing so my friends. He came unto my hearth, presented to my knife his throat. I took him in and made him joint-servant with me; gave him way in all his own desires; my best and freshest men served him, till at last, I seemed his follower, not partner.”

1 Conspirator: “So he did, my lord. The army marvelled at it.”

Aufidius: “So there it is, for which my sinews shall be stretched upon him. He sold the blood and labour of our great action; therefore shall he die, and I’ll renew me in his fall.”

3 Conspirator: “Let him feel your sword, which we will second.”

Enter the Lords

1 Lord: “Making a treaty where there was yielding – this admits no excuse.”

Enter Coriolanus:

Coriolanus: “Hail, Lords! I am returned your soldier; no more infected with my country’s love than when I parted hence, but still subsisting under your great command.”

Aufidius: “Noble lords, tell the traitor in the highest degree he has abused your powers.”

Coriolanus: “Traitor! How now?”

Aufidius: “Ay, traitor, Marcius.”

Coriolanus: “Marcius?”

Aufidius: “Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Does thou think I will grace thee with that robbery, thy stolen name, Coriolanus? You lords and heads of state, he has betrayed your business and given up your city of Rome – I say your city – to his wife and mother; breaking his oath and resolution and never admitting counsel of the war; but at his nurse’s tears he whined away your victory.”

Coriolanus: “Hear’st thou, Mars?”

Aufidius: “Name no the god, thou boy of tears.”

Coriolanus: “Ha! Measureless liar, thou has made my heart too great for what contains it. ‘Boy’! O slave! Pardon me, lords. Your judgments, my grave lords, must give this cur the lie, who wears my stripes impressed upon him. Cut me to pieces, Volscians. Stain all your edges on me. ‘Boy’! False hound!”

Aufideus: “Why, noble lords, will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, before your own eyes and ears?”

Conspiators: “Let him die for it.”

All the People: “Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He killed my son, my daughter, my cousin, my father.”

Aufidius: “Insolent villain!”

Conspirators: “Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!”

The conspirators draw and kill Coriolanus. Aufidius stands on him.

Aufidius: “My lords, when you should know – as in this rage, provoked by him, you cannot – the great danger which this man’s life did owe you, you’ll rejoice that he is thus cut off.”

2 Lord: “His own impatience takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.”

Aufidius: “My rage is gone and I am struck with sorrow. Though in this city he has widowed and unshielded many a one, yet he shall have a noble memory.”

Final Thoughts

The story of a tremendous hero with a tragic flaw, Coriolanus has never been regarded as one of Shakespeare’s finest tragedies, mostly because the lead character lacks the depth we associate, for example, with Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth or Mark Antony. And yet he is a complex figure. Coriolanus is the epitome of a one dimensional killing machine, a military hero and the pride of Rome on the battlefield, but he entirely lacks any political savvy whatsoever and is easily manipulated by the more conniving tribunes. Although he is coached by his friend, Menenius, who has the gift of political persuasion, he is hopelessly unsuited for the compromises required for politics and his bid to become consul. The most important person in his life is his domineering mother, who has no power of her own in a patriarchal Rome, but lives through her son, who she controls completely. Ironically, when only she can convince him to spare Rome, after his banishment, she seals his doom, and he falls victim to his arch-foe, Aufidius, who finally defeats him after countless humiliations at his hands on the battlefield.

The is a marvellous play for the structure and themes and the way Coriolanus is affected by the various intriguing characters who surround him. It is also relevant to modern audiences as a political treatise on what challenges a military hero might face in making the transition to politics. Dwight Eisenhower, Charles DeGaul, Colin Powell and even Adolph Hitler come to mind as relevant examples. As much as any of his plays, Coriolanus provides a clear and evident bridge between the 1607 world of Shakespeare and all the various settings of its productions ever since. During periods of conflict between England and Scotland Coriolanus was often depicted as English and Aufidius Scottish. After WW II the character of Coriolanus was played typically as a prototype of Hitler. There have been Marxist productions which exalt the role of the commoners who bring him down. The applications have, in fact, been countless. Is Coriolanus the man for the particular time and place of each new production? That is the question. Shakespeare’s sources for this play are Plutarch’s Lives and Livy’s History of Rome. Per usual, there is ample material on this play on youtube, including a very good stage production directed by Charles Bouchard and a film by Ralph Fiennes. There are lectures on Coriolanus, countless clips, scene selections and much analysis.

The Winter’s Tale

Introduction

This is an unusual, remarkable, and powerful tragic-comedy told in two parts. The first three acts are the stuff of full blown classical tragedy, on the scale of King Lear or Othello, as Leontes, King of Sicily, suspects his wife, Hermione, and an old friend, Polixenes, of adultery and his rage escalates into a tragic madness of the imagination unmatched even in Shakespeare. And then suddenly 16 years pass and the final two acts ignite a romantic comedy / resurrection / resolution unprecedented in all of Shakespeare, as the next generation, untouched by the sins of the old, overcome their parent’s ordeals and find harmony and renewal. Jealous paranoia gives way to a triumph of exuberance and goodness, which includes a miraculous and improbable resurrection of great consequence. Hence, we technically have a comedy on our hands.

This is the story of a king who disintegrates from the madness of a jealous imagination, of a wife who is falsely accused, assumes to die and then is miraculously resurrected 16 years later and of a daughter left for dead and raised by shepherds, who finds love and is eventually re-united with the royal family taken from her as an infant. This is a story about the healing quality of time. It is a tale of suffering and resurrection. The Winter’s Tale is a real ‘late in his career’ Shakespearean gem and one of his most profoundly moving plays.

Act I (2 scenes)

Scene i

Sicily. The palace of Leontes

Enter Camillo and Archidamus

Camillo: “Sicily cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods and rooted in affection. Their encounters have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters and loving embassies. The heavens continue their loves!”

Archidamus: “I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it.”

Analysis

Yes, Leontes (King of Sicily) and Polixenes (King of Bohemia) are very close childhood friends, but this very first scene is the very last scene before this intimate old kinship ruptures badly and creates the tragedy of this play’s first three acts.

Act I

Scene ii

Sicily. The palace of Leontes

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, Mamillius and Camillo

Polixenes: “Nine months since we have left our throne without a burden. Time as long again would be filled up, my brother, with our thanks.”

Leontes: “Stay your thanks a while.”

Polixenes: “Sir, that’s tomorrow. I am questioned by my fears of what may chance or breed upon our absence. Besides, I have stayed to tire your royalty.”

Leontes: “We are tougher, brother, than you could put us to it.”

Polixenes: “I can no longer stay.”

Leontes: “One seven nights longer.”

Polixenes: “For sooth, tomorrow. Press me not, I beseech you. There is no tongue that moves me, none in the world, so soon as yours could win me. My affairs drag me homeward. Farewell, my brother.”

Leontes: “Tongue-tied, our Queen? Speak you.”

Hermione: (to Leontes) “You, sir, charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure all in Bohemia is well.” (to Polixenes) “Yet of your royal presence I’ll adventure the borrow of a week. You’ll stay?”

Polixenes: “No, madam.”

Hermione: “Nay, but you will?”

Polixenes: “I may not, verily.”

Hermione: “Verily! Verily, you shall not go. A lady’s verily is as potent as a lord’s. Will you go yet? How say you? My prisoner or my guest? One of them you shall be.”

Polixenes: “Your guest then, madam.”

Hermione: “Not your jailer then, but your kind hostess. Come, I’ll question you of my lord’s tricks and yours when you were boys. You were pretty lords then.”

Polixenes: “We were, fair Queen; two lads who thought there was no more behind but such a day tomorrow as today, and to be boys eternal. We were as twinned lambs, who did frisk in the sun. What we changed was innocence for innocence; we knew not the doctrine of ill-doing, nor dreamed that any did.”

Leontes: “Is he won yet?”

Hermione: “He’ll stay, my lord.”

Leontes: “At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spoke to better purpose.”

Hermione: “Never?”

Leontes: “Never but once.”

Hermione: “My last good deed was to entreat his stay; what was my first?”

Leontes: “Why that was when thou did utter ‘I am yours forever’.”

Hermione: “Tis grace indeed. I have spoken to the purpose twice; the one forever earned a royal husband; the other for some while a friend.” (she gives her hand to Polixenes)

Leontes: (aside) “Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremors and my heart dances, but not for joy. But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, as now they are, and making practiced smiles as in a looking glass; and then to sigh. O, that is entertainment my bosom like not. Mamillius, art thou my boy?”

Mamillius: “Ay, my good lord.”

Leontes: “Why, they say thy nose is a copy of mine. Art thou my calf?”

Mamillius: “Yes, if you will, my lord.”

Leontes: “They say we are almost as like as eggs.”

Polixenes: “What means Sicily?”

Hermione: “He something seems unsettled.”

Polixenes: “How is it with you, best brother?”

Hermione: “You look as if you held a brow of much distraction.”

Leontes: “No, in good earnest. Looking on the lines of my boy’s face, me thought I did recoil twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreeched. How like, me thought, I then was to this kernel, this squash, this gentleman. We two will walk. Hermione, how thou loves us show in our brother’s welcome.”

Hermione: “If you would seek us, we are yours in the garden. Shall we attend you there?”

Leontes: “You’ll be found, be you beneath the sky.” (aside) “How she holds up, and arms herself with the boldness of a wife to her allowing husband! Inch-thick, knee-deep, over head! Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I play too; but so disgraced a part. Contempt and clamour will be my knell. Go, play, boy. There have been, or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; and many a man there is, even at this present, now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm who little think she has been sluiced in his absence, and his pond fished by his neighbour, Sir Smile. Should all despair who have revolted wives, a tenth of mankind would hang themselves. It is a bawdy planet. How now, boy!”

Mamillius: “I am like you, they say.”

Leontes: “Why, that’s some comfort. Camillo is here.

Camillo: “Ay, my good lord.”

Leontes: “Go play, Mamillius.”

Exit Mamillius

Leontes: “Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.”

Camillo: “He would not stay at your petitions.”

Leontes: “How came it, Camillo, that he did stay?”

Camillo: “At the good Queen’s entreaty.”

Leontes: “‘Good’ should be pertinent, but it is not.”

Camillo: “Bohemia stays here longer.”

Leontes: “Ay, but why?”

Camillo: “To satisfy your Highness, and the entreaties of our most gracious mistress.”

Leontes: “Satisfy the entreaties of your mistress! Satisfy! Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, with all the nearest things to my heart, as well my chamber council. But we have been deceived in that which seems so.”

Camillo: “Be it forbid, my lord.”

Leontes: “Thou art not honest; or thou art a coward; or else thou must be counted a servant grafted in my serious trust, and therein negligent; or else a fool, who sees a game played home, and takes it all for jest.”

Camillo: “My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful. If ever I were wilful-negligent, it was my folly; if industriously I played the fool, it was my negligence, not weighing well the end; if ever fearful to do a thing where I the issue doubted, t’was a fear which often infects the wisest. These, my lord, are such allowed infirmaries that honesty is never free of.”

Leontes: “Have you not seen, Camillo – or heard – or thought – my wife is slippery? Then say my wife is a hobby-horse, deserves a name as rank as any flax-wench. Say it and justify it.”

Camillo: “I would not be a stander-by to hear my sovereign mistress clouded so, without my present vengeance taken. Shrew my heart! You never spoke what did become you less than this.”

Leontes: “Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? Horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? That would unseen be wicked – is this nothing? Why, then the world and all that’s in it is nothing; the covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; my wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, if this be nothing.”

Camillo: “Good my lord, be cured of this diseased opinion; for tis most dangerous.”

Leontes: “Say it be, tis true.”

Camillo: “No, no, my lord.”

Leontes: “It is; you lie, you lie. I say thou lies, Camillo, and I hate thee, and pronounce thee a gross lout and a mindless slave.”

Camillo: “Who does infect her?”

Leontes: “Why, he who wears her like her medal, hanging around his neck, Bohemia; who – if I had servants true about me who bear eyes to see my honour as their profits, they would do that which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou, who may see plainly how I am galled – might bespice a cup to give my enemy a lasting wink.”

Camillo: Sir, my lord, I could do this; but I cannot believe this crack to be in my dread mistress. I will fetch off Bohemia provided that, when he is removed, your Highness will take again your queen, even for your son’s sake.”

Leontes: “Thou does advise me even so as I my own course have set down. I’ll give no blemish to her honour, none.”

Camillo: “My lord, go then; keep with Bohemia and with your queen. I am his cupbearer; if from me he has wholesome beverage, account me not your servant.”

Leontes: “This is all; do it, and thou has the one half of my heart; do it not, and thou spilts thy own.”

Camillo: “I’ll do it, my lord.”

Leontes: “I will seem friendly, as thou has advised me.”

Exit leontes

Camillo: “O misreable lady! But, for me, what case stand I in? I must be the poisoner of good Polixenes; and my ground to do it is the obedience to a master. Here comes Polixenes.”

Polixenes: “This is strange. methinks my favour here begins to warp. Good day, Camillo.”

Camillo: “Hail, most royal sir!”

Polixenes: “What is the news in the court?”

Camillo: “None rare, my lord.”

Polixenes: “The King has on him such a countenance as he had lost some province, loved as he loves himself. What is breeding that changes thus his manners?”

Camillo: “I do not know, my lord.”

Polixenes: “How, dare not! Do you know, and dare not be intelligent to me? Good Camillo, your changed complexions are to me a mirror which shows me my change too; for I must be a party in this alteration, finding myself thus altered with it.”

Camillo: “There is a sickness, but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught of you that yet are well.”

Polixenes: “How? Caught of me? Camillo, as you are certainly a gentleman, I beseech you – if you know aught which does behove my knowledge thereof to be informed, imprison it not in ignorant concealment.”

Camillo: “I may not answer.”

Polixenes: “I must be answered. Declare what incidence thou does guess of harm is creeping toward me; how far off, how near, which way to be prevented, if to be; if not, how best to bear it.”

Camillo: “Sir, I will tell you. Therefore, mark my counsel, which must be even as swiftly followed as I mean to utter it, or both yourself or me cry lost, and so goodnight. I am appointed by the king to murder you.”

Polixenes: “For what?”

Camillo: “He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, as he had seen it, that you have touched his queen forbiddenly.”

Polixenes: “How should this grow?”

Camillo: “I know not; but I am sure tis safer to avoid what’s grown than question how it was born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty, away tonight. For myself, I’ll put my fortunes to your service, which are here by this discovery lost.”

Polixenes: “I do believe thee: I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand; my ships are ready. This jealousy is for a precious creature; as she is rare, must it be great; and, as his person’s mighty, must it be violent; and as he does conceive he is dishonoured by a man which ever professed to him, why, his revenges must in that be made more bitter. Fear overshades me. Good expedition be my friend. Come, Camillo; I will respect thee as a father, if thou bears my life off hence. Let us avoid.”

Camillo: “Please your Highness to take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.”

Analysis

In an earlier play Iago warns Othello, “Beware, my lord, of jealousy. It is the green eyed monster.” In The Winter’s Tale Leontes is his own Iago, who needs no such luring to his fate. Nonetheless, here is a play where that green eyed monster wreaks havoc every bit as much as in Othello. Leontes pleads for Polixenes to stay a bit longer than the nine months he has been in Sicily. He will not budge, that is until Hermione requests he stay, and then suddenly he changes his mind and agrees to stay. This makes Leontes jealous, as does the overall closeness of Polixenes and Hermione. We are never given the slightest indication that there is anything untoward actually occurring between them, but Leontes takes the bait and is hopelessly consumed by that green eyed monster. As well, she is pregnant, so he imagines it is not his child and off he drifts toward the madness of jealousy. He instructs Camillo, his counsellor, to poison Polixenes, but Camillo instead runs off with him back to Bohemia, leaving Hermione behind to suffer the wrath of Leontes. Let the tragedy commence.

Act II (3 scenes)

Scene i

Sicily. The palace of Leontes.

Enter Hermione and Mamillius

Hermione: “What wisdom stirs within you? Pray you sit by us and tell us a tale.”

Mamillius: “Merry or sad shall it be?”

Hermione: “As merry as you will.”

Mamillius: “A sad tale is best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.”

Hermione: “Let’s have that, good sir; and do your best to fright me with your sprites.”

Enter Leontes, Antigonus and lords

Leontes: “Was he met there? Camillo with him?”

1 Lord: “Never saw I men scour so on their way. I eyed them even to their ships.”

Leontes: “How blessed am I in my true opinion! How accursed in being so blessed! Camillo was his help in this. There is a plot against my life, my crown; all is true that is mistrusted. That false villain whom I employed was pre-employed by him; he has discovered my design, and I remain a pinched thing. Give me the boy. I am glad you did not nurse him; though he does bear some signs of me, yet you have too much blood in him.”

Hermione: “What is this, sport?”

Leontes: “Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; away with him.”

Mamillius is led out

Leontes: “For tis Polixenes has made thee swell thus.”

Hermione: “But I say he has not. And I’ll be sworn you would believe my saying, however you lean to the wayward.”

Leontes: “You, my lords, look on her and mark her well; be but about to say ‘she is a goodly lady’ and the justice of your hearts will thereto add ’tis pity she’s not honest and honourable’. But be it known, from he who had most cause to grieve it should be, she is an adulteress.”

Hermione: “Should a villain say so, he were as much more villain: you, my lord, do but mistake.”

Leontes: “You have mistook, my lady, Polixenes for Leontes. O thou thing! Which I’ll not call a creature of thy place. I have said sh’e an adulteress; I have said with whom. More, she’s a traitor; and Camillo is confederate with her; she is a bed-swerver; even as bad as those who vulgars give boldest titles unto.”

Hermione: “No, by my life. How this will grieve you, when you shall come to clearer knowledge.”

Leontes: “Away with her to prison.”

Hermione: “There’s some ill planet reigns. I must be patient till the heavens look with an aspect more favourable. Do not weep, good fools; there is no cause; when you shall know your mistress has deserved prison, then abound in tears.”

Exit Hermione, guarded

1 Lord: “Beseech your Highness, call the Queen again.”

Antigonus: “Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer, yourself, your queen and your son.”

1 Lord: “For her, my lord, I dare my life lay down – that the Queen is spotless in the eyes of heaven and of you – I mean in this you accuse her.”

Antigonus: “For every inch of woman in the world is false, if she be.”

Leontes: “Hold your pieces.”

Antigonus: “It is for you we speak, not for ourselves. You are abused, and by some putter-on, who will be damned for it. Would I knew the villain!”

Leontes: “Cease, no more.”

1 Lord: “More would it content me to have her honour true than her suspicion.”

Leontes: “Why, what need we commune with you of this, but rather follow our forceful instigation? Our prerogative calls not for your counsels. If you – stupified -cannot or will not relish a truth like us, inform yourselves we need no more of your advice. For a greater confirmation I have dispatched in post to sacred Delphi, to Apollo’s temple, Cleomenes and Dion. Now from the oracle they will bring all. Have I done well?”

1 Lord: “Well done, my lord.”

Leontes: “Though I am satisfied, and need no more than what I know, yet shall the oracle give rest to the mind of others such as he whose ignorant credulity will not come up to the truth. So have we thought it good from our free person she should be confined, lest that the treachery of the two fled hence be left her to perform.”

Analysis

With Polixenes having fled home to Bohemia with Camillo, this only confirms for Leontes the guilt of Hermione, who remains the sole object of his wrath remaining in Sicily. He takes his son away from her, declares her pregnancy to be the work of Polixenes and orders her to prison. She and several lords try to reason with Leones, to no avail. His only concession is to have the oracle at Delphi confirm his suspicions. He has totally gone off the deep end, with no one supporting his paranoid accusations. Before Mamillius is taken from his mother he promises to tell her a sad story, because such a tale is best for winter. Indeed, the first three acts of our play is set in winter, hence the title, while the final two scenes of resolution and resurrection are played out in the summer.

Act II

Scene ii

Sicily. A prison

Enter Paulina and a gentleman

Paulina: “The keeper of the prison – call to him; let him have knowledge of who I am.”

Exit the gentleman

Enter the jailer

Paulina: “Now, good sir, you know me, do you not?”

Jailer: “For a worthy lady, and one who much I honour.”

Paulina: “Pray you, then, conduct me to the Queen.”

Jailer: “I may not, madam; to the contrary, I have express commandment.”

Paulina: “Here’s ado, to lock up honesty and honour from the access of gentle visitors! Is it lawful, pray you, to see her women? Emilia?”

Jailer: “So please you, madam. I shall bring Emilia forth.”

Paulina: “I pray now, call her.”

Jailer: “Madam, I must be present at your conference.”

Paulina: “Well, be it so.”

Re-enter Jailer with Emilia

Paulina: “Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?”

Emilia: “As well as one so great and so forlorn may hold together. On her frights and griefs, which never a tender lady has borne greater, she is, something before her time, delivered.”

Paulina: “A boy?”

Emilia: “A daughter, and a goodly babe, lusty and likely to live. The Queen receives much comfort in it; says ‘my poor prisoner, I am as innocent as you.'”

Paulina: “I dare be sworn, he must be told of it, and he shall. I’ll take it upon me. Pray you, Emilia, commend my best obedience to the Queen; if she dares trust me with her little babe, I’ll show it to the King and undertake to be her advocate to the loudest. We do not know how he may soften at the sight of the child: the silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.”

Emilia: “I’ll presently acquaint the Queen of your most noble offer.”

Paulina: “Tell her, Emilia, I’ll use that tongue I have; if wit flow from it, as boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted I shall do good.”

Emilia: “Now be you blest for it!”

jailer: “Madam, if it please the Queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur, having no warrant.”

Paulina: “You need not fear it, sir. This child was prisoner to the womb, and is by law freed and enfranchised – not a party to the anger of the King.”

Jailer: “I do believe it.”

Paulina: “Do not you fear. Upon my honour, I will stand between you and danger.”

Analysis

Paulina, wife to Antigonus, manages to learn that Queen Hermione has given birth to a daughter while in prison. Paulina intends to bring the child to Leontes, hoping the sight of such innocence will soften him and release him from the grips of his madness. Unfortunately, we already know that he has convinced himself that the babe is the child of Polixenes. Paulina will play a most significant role in sheltering Hermione until enough time passes for Leontes to heal from his self imposed disintegration.

Act II

Scene iii

Sicily. The palace of Leontes.

Enter Leontes, Antigonus, servants and lords

Leontes: “She, the adulteress; for the harlot king is quite beyond my arm; but she I can hook to me. How’s the boy?”

1 Servant: “He took good rest tonight.; tis hoped his sickness is discharged.”

Leontes: “Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, he straight declined, drooped, took it deeply, fastened and fixed the shame on himself, threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, and downright languished. The very thought of my revenges that way recoil upon me. Let him be until a time may serve; for present vengeance, take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes laugh at me. I should not laugh if I could reach them, nor shall she, within my power.”

Enter Paulina, with child

1 Lord: “You must not enter.”

Paulina: ” Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, than the Queen’s life?”

2 Servant: “Madam, he has not slept tonight and commanded none should come see him.”

Paulina: “I come to bring him sleep, just as you nourish the cause of his awkening. I come with words medicinal, to purge him of that humour that presses him from sleep.”

Leontes: “What noise there, ho? Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, I charged thee that she should not come about me; I knew she would.”

Antigonus: “I told her so, my lord.”

Leontes: “What, can you not rule her?”

Paulina: “From all dishonesty he can. Trust, he shall not rule me. Good, my liege, I come and I beseech you hear me, as I profess myself your loyal servant, your physician, your most obedient counsellor. I come from your good Queen.”

Leontes: “Good Queen!”

Paulina: “I say good Queen.”

Leontes: “Force her hence.”

Paulina: “The good Queen, for she is good, has brought you forth a daughter. Here it is; commends it to your blessing.”

Leontes: “Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out of door!”

Paulina: “Not so. I am no less honest than you are mad.”

Leontes: “Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. A nest of traitors!”

Antigonus: “I am none.”

Paulina: “Nor I; nor any but one that’s here and that’s himself.”

Leontes: “This brat is none of mine; it is the issue of Polixenes. Hence with it, and together with the dam commit them to the fire.”

Paulina: “It is yours, so like you tis the worse. Behold, my lords, although the print be little, the whole matter and copy of the father – eyes, nose, lips, forehead, the pretty dimple, the smile; the very mould and frame of hand and fingers.”

Leontes: “A gross hag! Antigonus, thou art worthy to be hanged, who will not stay her tongue.”

Antigonus: “Hang all the husbands who cannot do that feat, and you’ll leave yourself hardly one subject.”

Leontes: “Once more, take her hence. I will have her burned!”

Paulina: “I care not. It is a heretic who makes the fire, not she who burns in it; I’ll not call you tyrant; but this most cruel usage of your Queen – not able to produce more accusation than your own weak-hinged fancy – something savours of tyranny, and will ignoble name you scandalous to the world.”

Leontes: “Out of the chamber with her! Away with her!”

Paulina: “Look to your babe, my lord; tis yours.”

Exit Paulina

Leontes: “My child! Away with it. Take it hence, and see it instantly consumed with fire. Within this hour bring me word it is done, or I will seize thy life. If thy refuse, and will encounter my wrath, say so; the bastard’s brains with these my hands shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire. You’re all liars!”

1 Lord: “Beseech your Highness, give us better credit. We have always truly served you, and on our knees we beg that you do change this purpose, which being so horrible, so bloody, must lead to some foul issue. We all knell.”

Leontes: “Shall I live on to see this bastard call me father? Better to burn it now than curse it then. But let it live. Carry this female bastard hence; and bear it to some remote and deserted place, quite out of our dominions, and there leave it, without mercy, to its own protection. I do in justice charge thee, on thy soul’s peril and thy body’s torture, that thou commend it to some place where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.”

Antigonus: “I swear to do this, though a present death would be more merciful. Come, poor babe, some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens to be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savageness aside, have done like offices of pity.

Antigonus exits with the child

Leontes: “I’ll not rear another’s issue.”

Servant: “Please your Highness, posts from those you sent to the oracle are come an hour since. Clemens and Dion being well arrived from Delphi.”

Leontes: “Twenty-three days they have been absent; tis good speed. Prepare you, lords; summon a session, that we may arraign our most disloyal lady; for, as she has been publicly accused, so shall she have a just and open trial. While she lives, my heart will be a burden to me.”

Analysis

The King’s son, Mamillius, has fallen ill and Leontes blames this on the shock of his mother’s infidelity and shame. Paulina brings his new born baby to Leontes, all the while defending Hermione’s honour. Paulina does her very best to soften the rage of the king but only infuriates him further. Leontes grows so furious that he demands the child be consumed by fire, since he refuses to raise a daughter fathered by Polixenes. Various lords plead with him to reconsider this verdict and he agrees to the minor concession that the child be taken to a barren and remote location and left to its own devices amongst the wolves and bears.

Act III (3 scenes)

Scene i

Sicily. On the road to the capital

Enter Cleomenes and Dion

Dion: “O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly it was in the offering.”

Cleomenes: “But of all, the burst, and the ear-deafening voice of the oracle.

Dion: “If the event of the journey prove as successful to the Queen – O, be it so – the time is worth the use of it.”

Analysis

Returning from Delphi, the lords Dion and Cleomenes are hopeful that the oracle will vindicate Queen Hermione. In fact, absolutely no one in this play has sided with the king, who stands alone in his condemnation of his wife.

Act III

Scene ii

Sicily. A court of justice.

Leontes: “This session, to our great grief we pronounce, even pushes against our heart: the party tried, the daughter of a king, our wife, and one of us too much beloved. Let us be cleared with being tyrannous, since we so openly proceed in justice, which shall have due course. Produce the prisoner.”

Enter Hermione and Paulina

Leontes: “Read the indictment.”

Officer: (reads) “Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicily, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband. Thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, did counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.”

Hermione: “Since what I am to say must be but that which contradicts my accusation, it shall scarce boot me to say ‘not guilty’. Being counted falsehood shall, as I express it, be so received. But if powers divine behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make false accusation blush, and tyranny tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know – who least will seem to do so – my past life has been as continent, as chaste, as true, as I am now unhappy; for behold me, a fellow of the royal bed, a great king’s daughter, the mother to a hopeful prince. I appeal to your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes came to your court, how I was in your grace, how merited to be so. For Polixenes, with whom I am accused, I do confess I loved as in honour he required; with such a kind of love as might become a lady like me, and no other, as yourself commanded; which not to have done, I think had been in me both disobedience and ingratitude to you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, from an infant, freely, that it was yours. Now for conspiracy: all I know of it is that Camillo was an honest man; and why he left your court, the gods themselves are ignorant.”

Leontes: “You had a bastard by Polixenes and for as thy brat has been cast out, no father owning it – which is indeed more criminal in thee than it – so thou shall feel our justice; in whose easiest passage look for no less than death.”

Hermione: “Sir, spare your threats. The bug which you would frighten me with I seek. The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost, for I do feel it gone, but know not how it went; my second joy, and first fruit of my body, from his presence I am barred, like one infectious; my third comfort is from my breast, halled out to murder; myself on every post proclaimed a strumpet; with immodest hatred the child-bed privilege denied; lastly, hurried here to this place, in the open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, tell me what blessings I have here alive that I should fear to die. Therefore proceed. Your honours all, I do refer me to the oracle. Apollo be my judge!”

Lord: “This you request is altogether just, therefore, bring forth the oracle.”

Hermione: “The emperor of Russia was my father; O that he were alive and beholding his daughter’s trial.”

Enter officers with Cleomenes and Dion

Officer: “You two shall swear that you have both been to Delphi and from hence have brought this sealed oracle.”

Cleomenes and Dion: “All this we swear.”

Leontes: “Break open the seal and read.”

Officer: (reads) “Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject: Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found.”

Hermione: “Praised!”

Leontes: “There is no truth at all in the oracle. The session shall proceed. This is mere falsehood.”

Enter a servant

Servant: “My lord the King, the King!”

Leontes: “What is the business?”

Servant: “O, sir, I shall be hated to report it. The Prince your son is dead.”

Leontes: “Apollo’s angry; and the heavens themselves do strike at my injustice.”

Hermione swoons

Paulina: “The news is mortal to the Queen. Look and see what death is doing.”

Leontes: “Take her hence. Her heart is but overcharged; she will recover. I have too much believed my own suspicion. Beseech you tenderly apply to her some remedies for life.”

Exit Paulina and some ladies with Hermione

Leontes: “Apollo, pardon my great profaneness against thy oracle. I’ll reconcile me to Polixenes, new woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, whom I proclaim a man of truth and mercy. For, being transported by my jealousies to bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison my friend, Polixenes; which had been done but that the good mind of Camillo traded my swift command, though I with death and reward did threaten and encourage him. He, most humane and filled with honour, quit his fortunes here. How he glisters through my rust. And how his piety does my deeds make the blacker!”

Enter Paulina: “Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, break too! What studied torments, tyrant, has thou for me? What wheels, racks, fires? What flaying, boiling in leads or oils? What older or newer tortures must I receive? Thy tyranny together working with thy jealousies; O think what they have done, and then run mad indeed, stark mad. That thou betrayed Polixenes, twas nothing; that did but show thee, of a fool inconstant and damnable ungrateful. Nor was it much thou would have poisoned good Camillo’s honour, to have him kill a king; more monstrous, whereof I reckon the casting forth to crows thy baby daughter, though a devil would have shed tears; nor is it directly laid to thee, the death of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts cleft the heart that could conceive a gross and foolish sire blemished his gracious dam. But the last, o lords, the Queen, the Queen, the sweetest, dearest creature dead.”

Lord: “The higher powers forbid.”

Paulina: “I say she’s dead; I’ll swear it. Go and see. If you can bring lustre to her lips, her eye or her breath, I’ll serve you as I would the gods. But, O thy tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier than all thy woes can stir; therefore, betake thee to nothing but despair. A thousand knees ten thousand years together, naked, fasting upon a barren mountain, and still winter in storm perpetual, could not move the gods to look that way thou were.”

Leontes: “Go on, go on. Thou cannot speak too much; I have deserved all tongues to talk their bitterest.”

Lord: “Say no more; you have made fault in the boldness of your speech.”

Paulina:”I am sorry for it and I do repent. Alas, I have shown too much the rashness of a woman! He is touched to the noble heart. What’s gone and what’s past help should be past grief. Do not receive affliction at my petition. Now, good, my liege, forgive a foolish woman the love I bore your queen. I’ll speak of her no more, nor of your children.”

Leontes: “Prithee, bring me to the dead bodies of my queen and son. One grave shall be for both. Once a day I will visit the chapel where they lie; and tears shed there shall be my recreation. Come and lead me to these sorrows.”

Analysis

The court is in session and Leontes comes out swinging. The charges of high treason and adultery against Hermione are read and Hermione defends herself most eloquently and honourably. Nonetheless, Leontes pronounces her guilty and declares her punishment to be death, a sentence Hermione says will be a relief. However, just then the messengers from Delphi arrive and the oracle proclaims Hermione chaste, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject and Leontes a tyrant, who will live without heirs. Leontes refuses to accept the verdict of Apollo until word comes that his son has just died and then he does a complete about face and takes full responsibility for everything. Hermione faints and is carried away, as her ladies try desperately to revive her. Leontes mourns his own jealous behaviour and Paulina re-enters with the news that the Queen is dead. She lashes out harshly at the king, who accepts her attacks and claims he will spend the rest of his life in penance.

This is the real turning point in the play, as the weight and consequence of King Leontes’ madness hit home with a vigorous magnitude until he cracks and willingly bears the entire responsibility for everything that has gone amiss with Polixenes, Camillo, his Queen, their new baby and their grown son. This is the stuff of high tragedy. At least so far, as our setting moves, for the next while, to the mythical sea coast of Bohemia.

Act III

Scene III

Bohemia. The Sea Coast

Enter Antigonus with the child and a mariner

Antigonus: “Our ship has touched upon the deserts of Bohemia?”

Mariner: “Ah, my lord.”

Antigonus: “I’ll not be long.”

Mariner: “Make your best haste; this place is famous for the creatures of prey that keep upon it.”

Antigonus: “Come, poor babe, I have heard, but not believed, the spirits of the dead may walk again. If such things be, thy mother appeared to me last night; so never was dream so like a waking. The fury spent, anon did this break from her: ‘Good Antigonus, since fate has made thy person for the thrower out of my poor babe in Bohemia, there weep and leave it crying, lost for ever. For this ungentle business thou shall never see thy wife Pauline more.’ And so she melted into air. I do believe that Hermione has suffered death, and this being indeed the issue of King Polixenes, it should be here laid, either for life or death, upon the earth.” (he lays down the child) “The storm begins. Poor wench, that for thy mother’s fault art thus exposed to what may follow! My heart bleeds; and most accursed am I to be by oath enjoined to this. Farewell! Thou art like to have a lullaby too rough. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase; I am gone forever.”

Exit pursued by bear

Enter an old shepherd

Shepherd: “What have we hear?” (taking up the child) “A pretty one; a very pretty one. I’ll take it up for pity.”

Enter a clown

Clown: “I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land. For the land service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end to the ship, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him. The men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman; he’s at it now.”

Shepherd: “Would I had been by to have helped the old man! Heavy matters, heavy matters! Thou met with things dying, I with things new-born.”

Clown: “Go you the next way with your findings. I’ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he has eaten. They are never cursed but when they are hungry. If there be any of him left, I’ll bury it.”

Analysis

Antigonus has arrived on the remote and desolate (and fictional) coast of Bohemia to drop off Hermione and Leontes’ babe. He dreams that Hermione tells him to name the child Perdita and then states that he will never return home to see his wife, Pauline, again. He puts down the infant with her name written on a note and begins to return to the ship, which is being destroyed in a storm when he is attacked and eaten by a bear. This simple and brief scene alters the tone of the play considerably. This has been a tragic play up to this point, until the shepherd and his son, the clown, with great comic effect, discover the ship wreck, find Antigonus being devoured by the bear and come upon Perdita. They will save the child and a fairy tale comedic element in the play emerges. The tragedy is indeed over, and Act IV will be set entirely in Bohemia, far from the horrors we have witnessed thus far in the royal palace of Sicily.

Act IV

Scene i

Enter Time, the Chorus

Time: “Now take upon me, in the name of Time, to use my wings. Impute it not a crime for me that I slide over 16 years. Your patience this allowing, I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing as you had slept between. Leontes, so grieving that he shuts up himself. Imagine me, gentle spectators, that I now may be in fair Bohemia; and remember well I mentioned a son of the King’s, which Florizel I now name to you; and with speed so pace to speak of Perdita, now grown in grace, a shepherd’s daughter.”

Analysis

A lone figure named Time enters the stage and announces that sixteen years have past between the first three acts of the play and the subsequent two, as the scenes shift from Sicily to Bohemia and from tragedy to romantic comedy.

Act IV

Scene ii

Bohemia. The palace of Polixenes

Enter Polixenes and Camillo

Camillo: “It has been fifteen years since I saw my country. I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, has sent for me.”

Polixenes: “As thou loves me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now. The need I have of thee, thine own goodness has made. Better not to have had thee than thus to want thee. Of that fatal country Sicily, prithee, speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou calls him, and reconciled King, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw’st thou the Prince Florizel, my son?”

Camillo: “Sir, it has been three days since I saw the prince. What his happier affairs may be are to me unknown; but I have noted that he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he has appeared.”

Polixenes: “I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care I have this intelligence: that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd.”

Camillo: “I have heard, sir, of such a man, who has a daughter of much rare note.”

Polixenes: “That’s likewise part of my intelligence. Thou shall accompany us to the place, where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd.”

Camillo: “I willingly obey your command.”

Polixenes: “My best Camillo. We must disguise ourselves.”

Analysis

Camillo expresses to King Polixenes his desire to return to Sicily but Polixenes pleads with him to speak no more of this idea and they instead discuss the king’s son, Florizel, who spends most of his time at a poor shepherd’s house, who just happens to have a stunningly beautiful daughter. They decide to disguise themselves and go see what’s up with that. We are transitioning, not just sixteen years from Sicily to Bohemia and not only from tragedy to romantic-comedy, but there is also a seismic shift in theme and mood as well, as Bohemia becomes an enchanted place where love will blossom around the presence of a delightful rogue. Welcome to a whole new play!

Act IV

Scene iii

Bohemia. A road near the shepherd’s cottage.

Enter Autolycus, singing

Autolycus: “I have served Prince Florizel, but now I am out of service. My father named me Autolycus, who, being as I am, was likewise a snapper up of unconsidered trifles. My revenue is the silly cheat. Beatings and hangings are terrors to me.”

Enter Clown

Clown: “Let me see: what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? What will this sister of mine do with rice?”

Autolycus: (grovelling on the ground) “O, that ever I was born!”

Clown: “In the name of me!”

Autolycus: “O, help me, help me! Pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death, death!”

Clown: “Alack, poor soul! Thou has need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.”

Autolycus: “O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel taken from me, and these detestable things put upon me.”

Clown: “Lend me thy hand and I’ll help thee.”

Autolycus: “O, good sir, tenderly, O!”

Clown: “Alas, poor soul!”

Autolycus: “I fear, sir, that my shoulder blade is out. Softly, dear sir (Autolycus picks his pocket); dear sir, softly. You have done me a charitable office.”

Clown: “Does thou lack any money? I have a little money for thee.”

Autolycus: “No, good sweet sir, no.”

Clown: “What manner of fellow was he who robbed you?”

Autolycus: “I knew him once a servant of the Prince, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. I know this man well. Some call him Autolycus.”

Clown: “Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig! He haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baiting.”

Autolycus: “Very true, sir. That’s the rogue who put me into this apparel.”

Clown: “Not a more cowardly rogue in all of Bohemia.”

Autolycus: “I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter; I am false of heart that way.”

Clown: “Shall I bring thee on thy way?”

Autolycus: “No, good faced sir.”

Clown: “Then fare thee well. I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.”

Autolycus: “Prosper you, sweet sir.” (exit clown) 

Autolycus: (Aside) “Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice.”

Analysis

It is with the appearance of Autolycus that this truly becomes a different play. He is one of Shakespeare’s most beloved rogues. He is a robber and a cheat and yet there is an enduring quality to his mischief. Here he pick pockets the clown who stops to help him, as planned. His cheerful villainy will serve as a counterpoint to the otherwise idyllic setting around the shepherd’s farm, where the plot develops so sweetly.

Act IV

Scene iv

Bohemia. The shepherd’s cottage.

Enter Florizel and Perdita.

Florizel: “This your sheep-shearing is a meeting of the pretty gods, and you the queen of it.”

Perdita: “Sir, my gracious lord. Your high self, the gracious mark of the land; and me, poor lowly maid; I should blush to see you so attired; swoon, I think.”

Florizel: “I bless the time when my good falcon made her flight across thy father’s ground.”

Perdita: “Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread. Even now I tremble to think your father, by some accident, should pass this way, as you did. O, the fates! How would he look to see his work, so noble, vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how should I behold the sternest of his presence?”

Florizel: “Apprehend nothing but jollity. The gods themselves have taken the shapes of beasts: Jupiter becomes a bull; Neptune a ram. My desires run not before my honour, nor my lusts burn hotter than my faith.”

Perdita: “O, but sir, your resolution cannot hold when it is opposed, as it must be, by the power of the King.”

Florizel: “Thou dearest Perdita, darken not the mirth of the feast. I’ll be thine, my fair, or not my father’s. For I cannot be anything to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle. Lift up your countenance, as it were the day of celebration of that nuptial which we two have sworn will come. See, your guests approach.”

Enter Shepherd, with Polixenes and Camillo disguised, clown, Mopsa and Dorcas (shepherdesses)

Shepherd: “Fie, daughter! When my old wife lived this day she was both butler and cook; both dame and servant; welcomed all; served all; would sing her song and dance her turn; now here you are retired, as if you were a feasted one and not the hostess of the meeting. Come, present yourself that which you are, Mistress of the Feast, and bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing.”

Perdita: (to Polixenes) “Sir, welcome. It is my father’s will I should take on me the hostess-ship of the day.” (to Camillo). “You’re welcome, sir. Grace be to you both! And welcome to our shearing.”

Polixenes: “Shepherdess, a fair one you are.”

Camillo: “I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, and only live by gazing.”

Florizel: “What you do still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I’d have you do it ever. When you dance, I wish you a wave of the sea that you might ever do nothing but that; move still, still so, and own no other function. Come, our dance, I pray. Your hand, my Perdita.”

Perdita: “O Doricles, your praises are too large.”

Polixenes: “This is the prettiest low-born lass; nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than herself, too noble for this place.”

Camillo: “She is the queen of curds and cream.

Music. A dance of Shepherds and shepherdesses

Polixenes: “Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this who dances with your daughter?”

Shepherd: “They call him Doricles, and boasts himself to have a worthy feeding. He says he loves my daughter; I think so too. If young Doricles do light upon her, she shall bring him that which he not dreams of.”

Enter a servant

Servant: “O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door you would never dance again after a pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you. He sings several tunes and utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men’s ears grew to his tunes. He has songs for men or women. He has the prettiest love songs for maids.”

Clown: “Thou talks of a admirable conceited fellow. Prithee bring him in and le him sing.”

Perdida: “Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes.”

Enter Autolycus singing

Clown: “Ballads?”

Mopsa: “I love a ballad.”

Autolycus: “Here’s one to a very doleful tune.”

Mopsa: “Pray you now, buy it.”

Clown: “Come on, let’s see more ballads.”

Autolycus: “Here’s another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday.”

Dorcas: “Is it true too, think you?”

Autolycus: “Witnesses more than my pack will hold.”

Clown: “Lay it by too. Another.”

Autolycus: “This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.”

Mopsa: “Let’s have some merry ones.”

Autolycus: “Why this is a passing merry one; tis in request, I can tell you.”

Clown: “We’ll have this song. Wenches, I’ll buy for you both. Pedlar, let’s have the first choice.”

Exit clown

Autolycus: “And you shall pay well for them.”

Exit Autolycus, singing

Polixenes: (disguised, to Florizel, his son) “How now, fair shepherd! Your heart is full of something that does take your mind from feasting.”

Florizel: “Old sir, I know. Her looks are locked up in my heart, which I have given already, but not yet delivered.”

Polixenes: “Let me hear what you profess.”

Florizel: “Do, and be witness to it.”

Polixenes: “And this my neighbour too?”

Florizel: “And he, and more. Were I crowned he most imperial monarch, were I the fairest youth, had force and knowledge more than was ever man’s, I would not prize them without her love.”

Polixenes: “Fairly offered.”

Camillo: “This shows a sound affection.”

Shepherd: “But, my daughter, say you the like to him?”

Perdita: “I cannot speak so well, but by the pattern of my own thoughts I cut out the purity of his.”

Shepherd: “Take hands! I give my daughter to him.”

Florizel: “O, that must be. Come, contract us before these witnesses.”

Polixenes: “Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; have you a father?”

Florizel: “I have, but what of him?”

Polixenes: “Knows he of this?”

Florizel: “He neither does nor shall.”

Polixenes: “Methinks a father is at the nuptial of his son a guest that best becomes the table. Has your father grown incapable of reasonable affairs? Is he stupid with age and altering rheums? Can he speak, hear, know man from man, dispute his own estate? Lies he bed-ridden and does nothing but what he did being childish?”

Florizel: ” No, good sir; he has his health and strength indeed more than most half of his age.”

Polixenes: “By my white beard, you offer him, if this be so, a wrong something unfilial. The father should hold some counsel in such a business.”

Florizel: “I yield all this; but, for some other reasons, my grave sir, which is not fit for you to know, I will not acquaint my father of this business.”

Polixenes: “Le him know it.”

Florizel: “He shall not.”

Polixenes: “Prithee, let him.”

Florizel: “No, he must not.”

Shepherd: “Let him, my son.”

Florizel: “He must not.”

Polixenes: (revealing himself) “Young sir, whom son I do not call; thou are too base to be acknowledged! Thou traitor, I am sorry that by hanging thee I can but shorten thy life one week. Thou fresh piece of excellent witchcraft.”

Shepherd: “O, my heart!”

Polixenes: “I’ll have thy beauty scratched with briers and made more homely than thy state. I’ll bar thee from succession; not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin. Mark thou my words. And you, enchantment, if ever henceforth thou these rural latches to his entrance open, or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee as thou are tender.”

Exit Polixenes

Perdita: “Even here undone.” (to Florizel) “Will it please you, sir, to be gone? I told you what would come of this. Beseech you, of your own state take care. This dream of mine, being now awake, I’ll queen it no inch farther, but milk my ewes and weep.”

Shepherd: (to Perdita) “O cursed wretch, who knew this was the Prince, and would adventure to mingle faith with him! Undone, undone! If I might die within this hour, I have lived to die when I desire.”

Exit Shepherd

Florizel: “Why look you so upon me? I am sorry, not afeared; delayed but nothing altered.”

Camillo: “Gracious, my lord, you know your father’s temper. At this time he will allow no speech, and as hardly will he endure your sight as yet, I fear; til the fury of his Highness settles, come not before him.”

Perdita: “How often have I told you it would be thus! How often said my dignity would last but till it were known!”

Florizel: “It cannot fail but by the violation of my faith. Lift up thy looks. From my succession wipe me, father; I am heir to my affection.”

Camillo: “Be advised. This is desperate, sir.”

Florizel: “So call it; but it does fulfill my vow. Camillo, not for Bohemia will I break my oath to this my fair beloved. Therefore, I pray you, as you have ever been my father’s honoured friend, when he shall miss me, as, in faith, I mean not to see him anymore, cast your good counsels upon his passion. Let myself and fortune tug for the time to come. This you may know, and so deliver: I am put to sea with her who here I cannot hold on shore. Hark, Perdita”

Florizel takes Perdita aside

Camillo: “He’s irremovable, resolved for flight. Now were I happy if his going could frame to serve my turn, save him from danger, do him love and honour, purchase the sight again of dear Sicily and that unhappy king, my master, whom I do so thirst to see. (to Florizel) Sir, I think you have heard of my poor services in the love I have borne your father?”

Florizel: “Very nobly have you deserved. It is my father’s music to speak your deeds.”

Camillo: “Well, my lord, if you may please to think I love the King, and through him what’s nearest to him, which is your gracious self, I’ll point you to where you shall have such receiving as shall become your Highness; where you may enjoy your mistress.”

Florizel: “How, Camillo, may this, almost a miracle, be done?”

Camillo: “Have you thought on a place where you will go?”

Florizel: “Not any yet.”

Camillo: “Then listen to me. This follows: make for Sicily, and there present yourself and your fair princess – for so, I see, she must be – before Leontes. Methinks I see Leontes opening free arms and weeping his welcomes forth, sent by the king your father, to greet him and to give him comforts, with what you as from your father shall deliver; things known between us three, I will write down.”

Florizel: “I am bound to you. But Camillo, preserver of my father and now of me. We are not furnished like Bohemia’s son; nor shall we appear in Sicily.”

Camillo: “My lord, fear none of this. I think you know my fortunes do all lie there. It shall be so my care to have you royally appointed as if the scene you play were mine.”

Florizel and Camillo talk aside

Enter Autolycus

Autolycus: “Ha ha! What a fool honesty is! And trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all of my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove or bracelet to keep my pack from fasting, as if my trinkets had brought a benediction to the buyer. In this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoobub against his daughter and the King’s son, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army.”

Enter Camillio, Florizel and Perdida

Camillo: (seeing Autolycus) “Who have we here?”

Autolycus: (aside) “If they have overheard me, why, hanging.”

Camillo: “How now, good fellow! Why shake thou so? Fear not, man; here’s no harm intended to thee.”

Autolycus: “I am a poor fellow, sir.”

Camillo: “Why, be so still; here’s nobody will steal that from thee. Yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange and change garments with this gentleman.”

Camillo gives Autolycus money

Camillo: “Unbuckle, unbuckle.”

Autolycus and Florizel exchange garments

Camillo: “Fortunate mistress. You must take your sweetheart’s hat and pluck it over your brows, muffle your face, dismantle you, and, as you can, dislike the truth of your own seeming, that you may to shipboard get.”

Florizel: “Should I now meet my father, he would not call me son.”

Camillo: (aside) “What I do next shall be to tell the King of this escape, and whither they are bound; wherein my hope is I shall so prevail to force him after; in whose company shall re-view Sicily, for whose sight I have a woman’s longing for.”

Florizel: “Fortune speed us!”

Camillo:”The swifter speed the better.”

Exit Florizel, Perdida and Camillo

Autolycus: “I understand the business, I hear it. To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite too, to smell out work for the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man does thrive.”

Enter clown and shepherd

Clown: “There is no other way but to tell the King she’s a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.”

Shepherd: “Go to, then.”

Clown: “She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the King; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him.”

Shepherd: “I will tell the King all, every word, and his son’s pranks too. Let us to the King.”

Autolycus: (aside) “Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance.” “How now, rustics! Whither are you bound?”

Shepherd: “To the palace.”

Clown: We are but plain fellows, sir.”

Autolycus: A lie: you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying.”

Shepherd: “Are you a courtier?”

Autolycus: “I am a courtier. See thou not the air of the court in these enfolding? Has not my gait the measure of the court? Receives not thy nose court-odor from me? I am courier cap-a-pe, and one who will either push on or pluck back thy business there; whereupon I command thee to open thy affairs.”

Shepherd: “My business, sir, is with the King.”

Clown: “This cannot be but a great courtier.”

Shepherd: “His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.”

Clown: “He seems to be more noble in being fantastical. A great man, I’ll warrant.”

Autolycus: “What’s in the box?”

Shepherd: “Sir, there lies such secrets in this box which none must know but the King.”

Autolycus: “The King is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy; for, if thou be capable of things serious, thou must know that the King is full of grief.”

Shepherd: “So it is said, sir – about his son, that should have married a shepherd’s daughter.”

Autolycus: “Let that shepherd fly. Curses he shall have and tortures he shall feel, will break the back of a man, the heart of a monster.”

Clown: “Think you so, sir?”

Autolycus: “Not he alone shall suffer, but those as well who are germane to him, shall all come under the hangman. An old sheep-whistling rogue, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death is too soft for him, say I.”

Clown: “Has the old man a son?”

Autolycus: “He has a son – who shall be flayed alive; then anointed over with honey and set on the head of a wasp’s nest; then stand until he be three-quarters dead; then recovered again, raw as he is , and on the hottest day shall he be set against a brick wall. But why talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at. Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain men, what you have for the King. I’ll bring you where he is aboard.”

Clown: “He seems to be of great authority. Give him gold. Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand. Remember – stoned and flayed alive.”

Shepherd: “If it please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is the gold I have. I’ll make it as much more.”

Autolycus: “Well, give me your gold.”

Clown: “We must to the King. He must know tis none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does, when the business is performed.”

Autolycus: “I will trust you.”

Clown: “We are blessed in this man.”

Shepherd: “Let’s before, as he bids us. He was provided to do us good.”

Exit Shepherd and Clown

Autolycus: “If I had a mind to be honest, I see fortune would not suffer me; she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion – gold, and a means to do the Prince, my master, good; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring these two moles aboard with him. To him will I present them. There may be matter in it.”

Analysis

When we first encounter Florizel and Perdita it is evident that they are deeply in love. Of course we know what many in the play do not, which is that Florizel is the son of King Polixenes of Bohemia and Perdita is the long lost daughter of King Leontes of Sicily, left exposed and thought to be dead sixteen years ago. King Polixenes denounces the union of the two lovers, threatening to kill the shepherd for allowing his daughter to woo a prince, disfigure the shepherdess Perdita and disinherit his son, Florizel. The prince boldly insists to Perdita that despite his impending disinheritance they should run off together and escape his father, the king, altogether. Camillo hatches a plan to direct their departure toward Sicily, so that he can then accompany King Polixenes in pursuit of them back to where our play began and where perhaps Shakespeare’s most memorable reconciliation scene awaits, uniting King Leontes and his dear old estranged friend, King Polixenes, his daughter Perdita, and, rather miraculously, his dearly depart wife Hermione, long thought to be dead. Thus, as we begin act V our play is about to come full circle, with surprises in store for nearly everyone. Autolycus is one of Shakespeare’s most interesting and most harmless rogues and his humorous interludes lend some lightness to the otherwise troublesome ordeal in Bohemia between Polixenes and his son and Perdita.

Act V

Scene i

Sicily. The palace of Leontes

Enter Leontes and his lords Cleomenes and Dion, along with Paulina

Cleomenes: “Sir, you have done enough, and have performed a saint-like sorrow. No fault could you make which you have not redeemed; more penitence than you have done trespass. At the last, do what the heavens have done: forget your evil; with them forgive yourself.”

Leontes: “While I remember her and her virtues, I cannot forget my blemishes in them, and so still think of the wrong I did myself; which was so much that heirless it has made my kingdom, and destroyed the sweetest companion that ever man bred his hopes out of.”

Paulina: “True, too true, my lord. If, one by one, you wedded all the world, she you killed would be unparalleled.”

Leontes: “I think so. Killed! She I killed! I did so; but thou strikes me sorely to say I did it. It is as bitter on thy tongue as in my thoughts. Say so but seldom.”

Cleomenes: “Good lady, you might have spoken a thousand things that would have done the time more benefit and graced your kindness better.”

Paulina: (to Dion) “You are one of those who would have him wed again.”

Dion: “If you would not so, you pity not the state. Consider what dangers, by his Highness’ fail of issue, may drop upon his kingdom. What is holier, for royalty’s repair, for present comfort and for future good, than to bless the bed of majesty again with a sweet fellow to it?”

Paulina: “There is none worthy, respecting her that’s gone. Besides, the gods will have fulfilled their secret purposes; for has not the divine Apollo said that King Leontes shall not have an heir till his lost child be found? Which that it shall, is all as monstrous to our human reason as my Antigonus to break his grave and come again to me; who, on my life, did perish with the infant. (to Leontes) Care not for issue; the crown will find an heir. Great Alexander left his to the worthiest, so his successor was likely to be the best.”

Leontes: “Good Paulina, O that ever I had squared me to thy counsel! Then, even now, I might have looked upon my queen’s full eyes and have taken treasure from her lips.”

Paulina: “And left them more rich for what they yielded.”

Leontes: “Thou speaks the truth. No more such wives; therefore, I’ll have no wife, Paulina.”

Paulina: “Will you swear never to marry but by my free leave?”

Leontes: “Never, Paulina.”

Paulina: “Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.”

Cleomenes: “You tempt him over-much.”

Paulina: “Unless another, as like Hermione as is her picture, affront his eye. Yet, if my lord will marry – if you will, sir, give me the office to choose you a queen. She shall not be so young as was your former; but she shall be such as it should take joy to see her in your arms.”

Leontes: “My true Paulina, we shall not marry till thou bids us.”

Paulina: “That shall be when your first queen is again in breath; never till then.”

Enter a gentleman

Gentleman: “One who gives out himself Prince Florizel, son of Polixenes, with his princess – she the fairest I have yet beheld – desires access to your high presence.”

Leontes: “His princess, you say, with him?”

Gentleman: “Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, that ever the sun shone bright on. She is the rarest of all women.”

Leontes: “Go, Cleomenes; bring them to our embracement.”

Enter Cleomenes, Florizel and Perdida

Leontes: “Prince, were I but twenty-one, your father’s image is so hit in you that I should call you brother, as I did him. You are most dearly welcome! And your fair princess – goddess! O, alas! I lost, at my own folly, the society of your brave father, whom, I desire my life once more to look on him.”

Florizel: “By his command I here give you all greetings that a king and a friend can send to his brother. But infirmity, which waits upon worn times, has something seized his wished ability. He had himself measured to look upon you, whom he loves, and bade me say so.”

Leontes: “O, my brother – the wrongs I have done thee stir afresh within me. Prince, the blessed gods purge all infection from our air while you do climate here! You have a holy father, against whose person, so sacred as it is, I have done sin for which the heavens, taking angry note, have left me issueless.”

Enter a lord

Lord: “Most noble sir, Bohemia greets you and desires you to attach his son, who has fled from his father, from his hopes, and with a shepherd’s daughter.”

Leontes: “Where is Bohemia? Speak.”

Lord: “Here in your city; I just now came from him. To your court he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, of this fair couple. Meets he on the way the father of this seeming lady and her brother, having both their country quitted with this young prince.”

Florizel: “Camillo has betrayed me.”

Lord: “He’s with the king, your father.”

Florizel: “Who? Camillo?”

Lord: “Camillo, sir.”

Perdida: “O. my poor father! The heavens set spies upon us and will not have our contract celebrated.”

Lleontes: “You are married?”

Florizel: “We are not, sir, nor are we likely to be.”

Leontes: “My lord, is this the daughter of a king?”

Florizel: “She is, when once she is my wife.”

Leontes: “I am sorry, most sorry, you have broken from his liking, and as sorry your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, that you might well enjoy her. I will to your father. Your honour not overthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you. Upon which errand I now go toward him; therefore, follow me.”

Analysis

As our scene shifts back to Sicily, we find King Leontes still in mourning and doing penance for his errors 16 years ago, chronicled in the first three acts. Some of his lords want to see him forget the past and marry again but Paulina makes him promise not to take a wife until she condones it. Soon enough we will find out her reasons for this. Florizel and Perdita arrive from Bohemia and are received warmly by Leontes, who has had no word from Bohemia in many years. Word comes that King Polixenes and Camillo, along with the shepherd and his son have arrived in Sicily as well, apparently in pursuit of the king’s fleeing son and mistress. Leontes brings Florizel and Perdita to meet with King Polixenes, as all of the parties involved are about to gather. Much will soon be revealed and the end is surely near.

Act V

Scene ii

Sicily. Before the palace of Leontes

Enter Autolycus and a gentleman

Autolycus: “Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?”

1 Gentleman: “I heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found her. I heard him say he found the child. Here comes a gentleman who happily knows more.”

Enter a second gentleman

2 Gentleman: “The oracle is fulfilled: the King’s daughter is found. Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot express it. Here comes the lady Paulina’s steward: he can deliver you more. Has the King found his heir?”

3 Gentleman: “Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance. There is such unity in the proofs: the mantle of Queen Hermione’s; her jewel about the neck of the child; the letters of Antigonus found with it all; the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother; the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding; and many other evidences – proclaim her with all certainty to be the King’s daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings?”

2 Gentleman: “No.”

3 Gentleman: “There might you have beheld one joy crown another. Their joy waded in tears. Our King, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now a loss, cries ‘O, thy mother, thy mother!’ then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law. Now he thanks the old shepherd.”

2 Gentleman: “What, pray you, became of Antigonus, who carried hence the child?”

3 Gentleman: “He was torn to pieces by a bear. But O the noble combat that twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled. She lifted the Princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be in danger of losing.”

1 Gentleman: “Are they returned to the court?”

3 Gentleman: “No. The Princess hearing of her mother’s statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina, – a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano. He so near to Hermione has done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer.”

2 Gentleman: “Paulina has privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither and join the rejoicing?”

Analysis

Here the shepherd has told his story of having found Perdita on the Bohemian coast sixteen years ago and includes word of the various tokens from Hermione that were found with the child. Therefore, there remains no doubt that Perdita is every bit the princess as Florizel is a prince. Both the shepherd and the clown are made gentlemen and Autolycus becomes their servant. There remains one scene and one astonishing revelation, which will be the true climax of the play.

Act V

Scene iii

Sicily. A chapel in Paulina’s house

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Perdita, Camillo and Paulina

Leontes: “O Paulina, we have come to see the statue of our queen.”

Paulina: “As she lived peerless, so her dead likeness, I do believe, excels whatever yet you looked upon. But here it is, prepare to see the life as lively mocked as ever still sleep mocked death. Behold; and say tis well. (Paulina draws a curtain and reveals Hermione standing like a statue). I like your silence; it the more shows off your wonder; but yet speak. First, you, my liege. Comes it not something near?”

Leontes: “Her natural posture! Chide me, dear stone, that I might say indeed thou art Hermione. But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing so aged as this seems.”

Paulina: “So much the more our carver’s excellence, which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her as she lived now.”

Leontes: “As now she might have done, as it is piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, even with such life of majesty – warm life, as now it coldly stands – when first I woo’d her! I am ashamed. Does not the stone rebuke me for being more stone than it? O royal piece, there’s magic in thy majesty, which has my evils conjured to remembrance.”

Perdita: “Dear queen, who ended when I but began, give me the hand of yours to kiss.”

Paulina: “O, patience! The statue is but newly fixed, the colour’s not dry.”

Leontes: “Do not draw the curtain.”

Paulina: “No longer shall you gaze on it, lest your fancy may think it moves.”

Leontes: “Let be, let be. Would you not deem it breath’d, and that those veins did verily bear blood?”

Polixenes: “Masterly done! The very life seems warm upon her lips.”

Leontes: “The fixture of her eye has motion in it, as we are mocked with art.”

Paulina: “I’ll draw the curtain. My lord’s almost so far transported that he’ll think anon it lives.”

Leontes: “The pleasure of that madness. Let it alone.”

Paulina: “I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirred you; but I could afflict you further.”

Leontes: “Do, Paulina; for this affliction has a taste as sweet as any cordial comfort. Still, methinks there is an air that comes from her. Why fine chisel could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, for I will kiss her.”

Paulina: “Good, my lord, forbear. The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; you’ll mar it if you kiss it and stain your own with oily paint. Shall I draw the curtain?”

Leontes: “No, not these twenty years.”

Perdita: “So long could I stand by, a looker-on.”

Paulina: “Either forbear or resolve you for more amazement. If you can behold it, I’ll make the statue move indeed. But then you’ll think I am assisted by wicked powers.”

Leontes: “What you can make her do I am content to look upon.”

Paulina: “It is required you do awake your faith. Then all stand still; or those who think it is an unlawful business I am about, let them depart.”

Leontes: “Proceed. No foot shall stir.”

Paulina: “Music, awake her. Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; strike all who look upon with marvel. Come; stir; nay, come away. Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs. (Hermione comes down from the pedestal). Do not shun her until you see her die again; for then you kill her double. Nay, present your hand. When she was young you woo’d her.”

Leontes: “O, she’s warm!”

Polixenes: “She embraces him.”

Camillo: “She hangs around his neck. If she pertain to life, let her speak too.”

Polixenes: “Ay, how stolen from the dead.”

Paulina: “It appears she lives though yet she speaks not. Mark a little while. Turn, good lady; our Perdida is found.”

Hermione: “You gods, look down, and from your sacred vials pour your graces upon my daughter’s head! Tell me, mine own, where has thou been preserved? Where lived? How found? For thou shall hear that I, knowing by Paulina that the oracle gave hope that thou was in being, have preserved myself to see the issue.”

Paulina: “There’s time enough for that. Go together, you precious winners all. I, an old turtle, will wing me to some withered bough, and there my mate, who’s never to be found again, lament till I am lost.”

Leontes: “O peace, Paulina! Thou should a husband take by my consent, as I by thine a wife. Thou has found mine. But how, for I saw her, as I thought, dead; and have; in vain, said many a prayer upon her grave. I’ll not seek far to find thee an honourable husband. Come, Camillo, and take her by the hand, justified by us, a pair of kings. Good Paulina, lead us from hence. Hastily lead away.

Analysis

Pauline reveals her statue of Hermione, which is strikingly realistic. Everyone is overwhelmed by the lifelike resemblance to Hermione as she would have been in the present, sixteen years aged. Leontes wants to touch and to kiss the statue. Pauline finally has the statue come down from the pedestal. It seems she has been secretly harbouring Hermione for all of the years since her trial for treason and adultery. As soon as Perdita was found to be alive and well and peace was established between Sicily and Bohemia, Pauline determined that the time was right to seemingly bring back Hermione from the dead. Hermione and Leontes embrace and Paulina is rewarded with a husband in Camillo, while Perdida is heir to the kingdom of Sicily. This is Shakespeare’s most breathtaking resolution scene, as all parties are reunited in Sicily, Perdita is found to be the daughter of Leontes and Hermione is miraculously resurrected from the dead. Only Paulina and Hermione know the real truth of her apparent death defying re-emergance.

Final thoughts

One of the most astounding facts about this impressive later work of the Bard’s is that it is seldom considered a star in the firmament of his acknowledged masterpieces. By this point in his waning career he was no longer writing clearly delineated comedies or tragedies. Pericles, Cymbeline and The Winter’s Tale, all completed between 1608 and 1610, have a mix of everything, defy easy classification and are often referred to as problem plays or romantic comedies. They are complex works of great magnitude and exquisite language. However, they follow on the heals of the staggering genius of his most prolific and profound phase, where in a very short period of time, from 1599-1606, he managed to somehow compose As You like It, Henry V, Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Twelfth Night, Measure for Measure, Othello, Macbeth, King Lear and Antony and Cleopatra. And while his remaining eight plays do include Coriolanus, Pericles, The Winter’s Tale and The Tempest, his swan song, nothing was seen to compare to that previous incomparable string of masterpieces. And yet, in Shakespeare’s day, these later romantic comedies were quite popular, often perceived as a type of fairy tale, with magical places (a coastline in Bavaria) and big adventures and bizarre events (a man being eaten by a bear and a statue coming to life). There are often separations, disguises, mistaken identities, and grand reconciliations. They may be at one and the same time tragic (acts I-III) and comedic (acts IV-V). After a generation of popularity The Winter’s Tale seems to have been scrapped until at least 1741, when it was re-worked thoroughly. It was not until the 19th century that Shakespeare’s original version was restored. It was never really embraced in the 20th century, despite several memorable productions starring the likes of John Gielgud, Judi Dench and Lawrence Harvey. As usual, you can find several full productions on youtube along with a plethora of shorter clips and analysis.