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Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 

                        PROSPERO.

Pro.                         Oh, was she so? I must,

Once in a month, recount what thou has been.

Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch,

Sycorax,

For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible

To enter human hearing, from Argier,

Thou know’st, was banished; for one thing she

did,

They would not take her life: Is not this true?

Ari.  Ay, sir.

Pro. This blear-eyed hag was hither brought

with child,                              [slave,

And here was left by the sailors: Thou, my

As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant:

And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate

To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,

Refusing her grand ‘hests, she did confine thee,

By help of her more potent ministers,

And in her most unmitigable rage.

Into a cloven pine; within which rift

Imprison’d, thou didst painfully remain

Thour art inclin’d to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,

And give it way;—I know thou canst not choose.

[MIRANDA sleeps.

Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;

Approach, my Ariel; come.

Enter ARIEL.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I

come

To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl’d clouds; to thy strong bidding, task

Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro.                              Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee?

Ari. To every article.

I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement: Sometimes, I’d divide,

And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame dis

tinctly,

Then meet and join: Jove’s lightnings, the

precursors

O’the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and

cracks

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune

Seem’d to besiege, and make his bold waves

Yea, his dread trident shake.            [trember,

Pro.                                        My brave spirit I

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

Ari.                                       Not a soul,

But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d

Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,

Plung’d in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,

Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand,

With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair),

Was the first man that leap’d; cried, Hell is

And all the devils are here!               [empty,

Pro.                                  Why, that’s my spirit!

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.                                 Close by, my master.

Pro.  But are they, Ariel, safe?

Ari.                                    Not a hair perish’d;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me,

In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle;

The king’s son have I landed by himself;

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,

In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,

His arms in this sad knot.

Pro.                                 Of the king’s ship,

The mariners, says, how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’ the fleet?

Ari.                                         Safely in harbour

Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid

The mariners all under hatches stow’d;

Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d

labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet

A dozen years; within which space she died,

And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy

groans,

As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this

island,

(Save for the son that she did litter here,

A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour’d with

A human shape.

Ari.                       Yes: Caliban her son.

Pro. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban,

Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st

What torment I did find thee in: thy groans

Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts

Of every-angry bears; it was a torment

To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax

Could not again undo; it was mine art,

When I arriv’d and heard thee that made gape

The pine, and let thee out.

Ari.                                  I thank thee, master.

Pro. If thou more murmur’st I will rend an

And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till (oak,

Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

Ari.                                          Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.

Pro.                        Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

Ari.                             That’s my noble master!

What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?

Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o’ the

sea;

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible

To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape

And hither come in’t: hence, with diligence.

[Exit. ARIEL.

(On 7/23/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 

                        PROSPERO.

Enter ARIEL.

Ari. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I

come

To answer thy best pleasure; be ‘t to fly,

To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

On the curl’d clouds; to thy strong bidding, task

Arie, and all his quality.

Pro.                             Hast thou, spirit,

Perform’d to point the king’s ship; now on the beak,

Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,

I flamed amazement; Sometimes, I’d divid,

And burn in many places; on the top-mast,

The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame dis-

tinctly,

Then meet and join: Jove’s lightnings, the

precursors

O’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary

And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and

cracks

Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune

Seem’d to besiege, and make his bold waves

Yea, his dread trident shake.            [tremble,

Pro.                                        My brave spirit I

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil

Would not infect his reason?

Ari.                                        Not a soul,

But felt a fever of the mad, and play’d

Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners,

Plung’d in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,

Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand,

With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair),

Was the first man that leap’d; cried, Hell is

And all the devils are here!                 [empty,

Pro.                                  Why, that’s my spirit I

But was not this nigh shore?

Ari.                                   Close by, my master/

Pro.  But are thy, Ariel, safe?

Ari.                                  Not a hair perish’d;

On their sustaining garments not a blemish,

But fresher than before: and, as thou bad’st me,

In troops, I have dispersed them ’bout the isle;

The king’s son have I landed by himself;

Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,

In and odd angle of the isle, and sitting,

His arms in this sad knot.

Pro.                                 Of the king’s ship,

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed,

And all the rest o’ the fleet?

Ari.                                       Safely in harbour

Is the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where once

Thou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dew

From the still-vex’d Bermoothers, there she’s hid

The mariners all under hatches stow’d;

Whom, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d

labour,

I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet

Which I despersed, they all have met again;

And are upon the Mediterranean flote,

Bound sadly home for Naples;

Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,

And his great person perish.

Pro.                                           Ariel, thy charge

Exactly is performed; but there’s more work:

What is the time o’ the day?

Ari.                                 Past the mid season.

Pro. At least two glasses: The time ‘twixt six

and now

Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Ari.   Is there more toil? Since thou dost give

me pains.

Let me remember thee what thou hast promis’d,

Which is not yet perform’d me.

Pro.                                   How now? moody?

What is’t thou canst demand?

Ari.                                            My liberty.

Pro.  Before the time be out? No more!

Ari.                                                  I pray thee

Remember, I have done thee worthy service;

Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv’d

Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst

promise

To bate me a full year.

Pro.                             Dost thou forget

From what a torment I did free thee?

Ari.I                                                    No.

Pro. Thou dost; and think’st

It much to tread the ooze of the salt deep;

To run upon the sharp wind of the north;

To do me business in the veins o’ the earth,

When it is bak’d with frost.

Ari.                                       I do not, sir.

Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou

               forgot                                  [envy,

The  foul witch, Sycorax, who with age and

Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

Ari. No, sir.               

Pro.              Thou hast: Where was she born?

speak; tell me.

Ari. Sir, in Argier.

 

(On 7/22/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 

                        PROSPERO.

Mira.                          O good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate

To closeness, and the battering of my mind

With that, which, but by being so retired,

O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother

Awaked an evil nature: and my trust,

Like a good parent, did beget of him

A falsehood, in its contrary as great

As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit,

A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,

Not only with what my revenue yielded,

But what my power might else exact, —like one,

Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,

Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie,—he did believe

He was the duke; out of the substitution,

And executing the outward face of royalty,

With all prerogative:—Hence his ambition

Growing,—Dost hear?

Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

Pro. To have no screen between this part he

play’d

And him he play’d it for, he needs will be

Absolute Milan: Me, poor man!—my library

Was dukedom large enough; of temporal

royalties

He thinks me now incapable: confederates

(So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,

To give him annual tribute, do him homage;

Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend

The dukedom, yet unbowed, (alas, poor Milan!)

To most ignoble stooping.

Mira.                                 I the heavens!

Pro. Mark his condition, and the even; then

If this might be a brother.                  [tell me,

Mira.                             I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:

Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Pro.                                     Now the condition.

This king of  Naples being an enemy

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;

which was that he in lieu o] the premises.—

Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,—

Should presently extirpate me and mine

Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan,

With all the honours, on my brother: Whereon,

A treacherous army levied, one midnight

Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open

The gates of Milan; and i’ the dead of darkness,

The ministers for the purpose hurried thence

Me, and thy crying self.

Mira.                             Alack, for pity!

I, not rememb’ring how I cried out then,

Will cry it o’er again: it is a hint,

That wrings mine eyes to ‘t.

Pro.                                  Hear a little further,

And then I’ll bring thee to the present business

Which now’s upon us; without the which, this

Were most impertinent.                        [story

Mira.                           Wherefore did they not,

That hour, destroy us?

Pro.                             Well demanded, wench;

My tale provokes that question.      Dear, they

durst not;

(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set

A mark so bloody on the business; but

With colours fairer painted their foul ends.

In few, they hurried us aboard a bark;

Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepar’d

A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,

Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats

Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,

To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sigh

To the winds, whose pity sighing back again,

Did us but loving wrong.

Mira.                             Alack! what trouble

Was I then to you!

Pro.                          I! a cherubim

Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst

smile,

Infused with a fortitude from heaven,

When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt;

Under my burden groan’d; which raised in me

An undergoing stomach, to bear up

Against what should ensue.

Mira.                               How came we ashore?

Pro. By Providence divine.

Some food we had, an some fresh water, that

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,

Out of his charity, (who being then appointed

Master of this design,) did give us; with

Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,

Which since have steaded much; so, of his

gentleness,

Knowing I love my books, he furnish’d me,

From my own library, with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom.

Mira.                                Would I might

But ever see that man!

Pro.                         Now I arise:—

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.

Here in this island we arrived; and here

Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit

Than other princes can, that have more time

For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.

Mira. Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I

pray you, sir,

(For still ’tis beating in my mind,) your reason

For raising this sea-storm?

Pro.                                Know thus far forth.—

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,

Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore: and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star; whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop.—Here cease more ques-

tions,

Thou art inclin’d to sleep; ’tis a good dulness,

And give it way;—I know thou canst not choose.

[MIRANDA sleeps.

Come away, servant, come: I am ready now;

Approach, my Ariel; come.

 

(On 7/21/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE II.—The Island; before the Cell of 

                        PROSPERO.

        Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you

have

Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them:

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking

pitch,

But that the sea,mounting to the welkin’s

cheek,

Dashes the fire out. I, I have suffer’d

With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel,

Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her,

Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knock

Against my very heart! poor souls! they

perish’d.

Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e’er

It should the good ship so have swallowed, and

The freighting souls within her.

Pro.                                            Be collected’

No more amazement; tell your piteous heart,

There’s no harm done.

Mira.                         O, woe the day!

Pro.                                                    No harm.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,

(Of thee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!) who

Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing

Of whence I am; nor that I am more better

Thank Prospero, master of a full poor cell,

And thy no greater father.

Mira.                               More to know

Did never meddle with my thoughts.

Pro.                                             ‘Tis time

I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,

And pluck my magic garment from me.—So;

[Lays down his mantle.

Lie there my art.—Wipe thou thine eyes; have

comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’d

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine art

So safely order’d, that there is no soul—

No, not so much perdition as an hair,

Betid to any creature in the vessel

Which thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st

sink. Sit down;

For thou must now now further.

Mira.                                     You have often

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopped,

And left me to a bootless inquisition;

Concluding, Stay, not yet.

Pro.                                 The hour’s now come;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;

Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember

A time before we came unto this cell?       [not

I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast

Out three years old.

Mira.                     Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro.  By what? by any other house, or person?

Of any thing the image tell me, that

Hath kept wit thy remembrance.

Mira.                                           ‘Tis far off;

And rather like a dream than an assurance

That my remembrance warrants: Had I not

Four or five women once, that tende me?

Pro. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda: But how

is it,                                              [else

That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou

In the dark backward and abysm of time?

If thou remember’st aught, ere thou cam’st here,

How thou cam’st here, thou mayst.

Mira.                         But that I do not.

Pro. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years

since,

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and

A prince of power.

Mira.                     Sir, are not you my father?

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and

She said—thou wast my daughter; and thy

father

Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir

A princess; no worse issued.

Mira.                                     I, the heavens!

What foul play had we that we came from thence;

Or blessed was’t, we did?

Pro.                                  Both, both, my girl;

By foul play as thou say’st, were we heaved

thence;

But blessedly holp hither.

Mira.                                O, my heart bleeds

To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to,

Which is from my remembrance! Please, you,

further.

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call’d An-

tonio—

I pray thee, mark me,—that a brother should

Be so perfidious!–he whom, next thyself,

Of all the world I loved, and to him put

The manage of my state; as, at that time

Through all the signiories it was the first,

And Prospero the prime duke; being so reputed

In dignity, and, for the lieral arts,

Without a parallel: those being all my study,

The government I cast upon my brother,

And to my state grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle—

Dost thou attend me?

Mira.                          Sir, most heedfully.

Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,

How to deny them; whom to advance, and

whom

To trash for over-topping; new created

The creatures that were mine; I say, or chang’d

them,

Or else new form’d them; having both the key

Of officer and office, set all hearts

To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was

The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,

And suck’d my verdure out on’t.—Thou

attend’st not;

I pray thee, mark me.

(On 7/20/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—On a Ship at Sea.—A Storm,

with Thunder and Lightening.

                    Re-enter Boatswain.

Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; lower,

lower; bring her to try with main-course. A

cry within.] A plague upon this howling! They

are louder than the weather, or our office.—

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO.

Yet again? what do you hear? Shall we give

o’er, and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

Seb. A pox o’ your throat! you bawling, blas-

phemous, incharitable dog!

Boats. Work you, then.

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent

noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned

that thou art.

Gon. I’ll warrant him from drowning; though

the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and

as leaky as an unstanch’d wench.

Boats. Lay her a-hold: set her two

courses; off to sea again, lay her off.

Enter Mariners, wet.

Mar. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

[Exeunt.

Boats. What, must our mouths be cold?

Gon. The king and prince at prayers! let us

assist them,

For our case is as theirs.

Seb. I am out of patience.

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by

drunkards.---

This wide-chapp'd rascal' --- Would thou

mightst lie drowning,

The washing of ten tides!

Gon. He'll be hanged yet;

Though every drop of water swear against it,

And gape at wid'st to glut him.

[A confused noise within.]—Mercy on us! We

split, we split!—Farewell, my wife and children!

Farewell, brother!—We split, we split, we

split!—

Ant. Let’s all sink with the king.               [Exit.

Seb. Let’s take leave of him.                   [Exit.

Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of

sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath,

brown furze, any thing: The wills above be

done! but I would fain die a dry death.    [Exit.

(On 7/19/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Tempest

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

 

ALONSO, King of Naples.                                      STEPHANO, a drunken Butler.

SEBASTIAN, his brother.                                        Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.

PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of Milan.                MIRANDA, daughter to PROSPERO.

ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of         ARIEL, an airy Spirit.

Milan.                                                            IRIS, a Spirit.

FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples.                CERES, a Spirit.

GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor of Naples.   JUNO, a Spirit.

ADRIAN, a. Lord.                                                    Nymphis, a Spirit.

FRANCISCO, a Lord.                                              Reapers, a Spirit.

CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave.

TRINCULO, a Jester.

SCENE, The Sea, with a Ship: afterwards an uninhabited Island.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—On a Ship at Sea.—A Storm,

with Thunder and Lightening.

Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain.

Master. Boatswain,—

Boats. Here, master: what cheer?

Master. Good: Speak to the mariners: fall to ‘t

yarley, or we run ourselves aground; bestir,

bestir.                                                  [Exit.

Enter Mariners.

Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, my

hearts; yare, yare: take in the top-sail; ‘Tend

to the master’s whistle.—Blow till thou burst

thy wind, if room enough!

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO,

FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others.

Alon. Good Boatswain, have care. Where’s

the master? Play the me.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.

Ant. Where is the master, Boatswain?

Boats. Do you not bear him? You mar our

labour; keep your cabins: you do assist the

storm.

Gon. Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence! What care

these roarers for the name of king? To cabin:

silence: trouble us not.

Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast

aboard.

Boats. None that I more love than myself.

You are a counsellor: if you can command

these elements to silence, and work the peace

of the present, we will not hand a rope more;

use your authority. If you cannot, give thanks

you have lived so long, and make yourself

ready in your cabin for the mischance of the

hour, if it so hap.—Cheerly, good hearts.—

Out of our way, I say.                          [Exit.

Gon.  I have great comfort from this fellow:

methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him;

his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast,

good fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his

destiny our cable, for our own doth little ad-

vantage! If he be not born to the hanged, our

case is miserable.                              [Exeunt.

(On 7/18/14 -  We will continue with “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Merry Wives of Windsor

Act. V, Pg. 70-71

SCENE V. (cont’d)—Another part of the Park.

Enter SLENDER.

Slen. Who—ho! ho! father Page!

Page. Son! how now? how now, son? have you

dispatched?

Slen. Dispatched!—I’ll make the best in Glou-

cestershire know on’t; would I were hanged,

la else.

Page. Of what, son?

Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mis-

tress Anne Page, and she’s a great lubberly

boy. If it had not been i’ the church I would

have swinged him, or he should have swinged

me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page,

would I might never stir, and ’tis a post-

master’s boy.

Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong.

Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so,

when I took a boy for a girl. If iI had been

married to him, for all he was in woman’s ap-

parel, I would not have had him.

Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I

tell you how you should know my daughter

by her garments?

Slen. I went to her in white and cried mum,

and she cried budget, as Anne and I had ap-

pointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-

master’s boy.

Eva. Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see

but marry boys?

Page. Oh, I am vexed at heart: what shall I do?

Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew

of your purpose; turned my daughter into

green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor

at the deanery, and there married.

Enter CAIUS.

Caius. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am

cozened; I ha’ married un grarcon, a boy; un

paisan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by

gar, I am cozened.

Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green?

Caius. Ay, by gar, and ’tis a boy:by gar, I’ll

raise all Windsor.                      [Exit CAIUS.

Ford. This is strange. Who hath got the right

Anne?

Page. My heart misgives me:—here comes

Master Fenton.

Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE.

How now, Master Fenton?

Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother,

pardon!

Page. Now, Mistress, how chance you went

not with Master Slender?

Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master

doctor, maid?

Fent. You do amaze her: Hear the truth of it.

In love, the heavens themselves do guide the

state;

Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta’en a spe-

cial stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath

glanced.

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give

thee joy!

What cannot be eschewed must be embraced.

Fal. When night-dogs run all sorts of deer are

chased.

Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your

wedding.

Mrs. Page. Well, I will mse no further:—

Master Fenton,

Heaven give you many, many merry days!—

Good husband, let us every one go home,

And laugh this sport o’er 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, to-night, shall lie with Mistress Ford.

[Exeunt.

The End

(On 7/17/14 - Join me for “The Tempest)

The Tempest


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Merry Wives of Windsor

Act. V, Pg. 69-70

SCENE V. (cont’d)—Another part of the Park.

Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, and Mrs.

FORD. They lay hold on him

Page. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch’d

you now:

Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?

Mrs. Page. I pray you come; hold up the jest.

no higher.—

Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?

See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes

Become the forest better than the town?

Ford. Now, sir, who’s a cuckold now?—Mas-

ter Brook, Falstaff’s a knave a cuckoldly

knave; here are his horns, Master Brook: and,

Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of

Ford’s but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and

twenty pounds of money; which must be paid

to Master Brook; his horses are arrested for it.

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.

Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am mad

an ass.

Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are

extant.

Fal. 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, the sudden

surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of

the foppery into a received belief, in despite of

the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they

were fairies. See now how wit may be made a

Jack-a-lent when ’tis upon ill employment.

Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got and leave

your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.

Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.

Eva. 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.

Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried

it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross

o’er-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a

Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of

frize? ‘Tis time I were choke with a piece of

toasted cheese.

Eva.  Seese is not good to give putter; your

pelly is all putter.

Fal. Seese and putter! have I lived to stand at

the taunt of one that makes fritters of English?

This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-

walking through the realm.

Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think,

through we would have thrust virtue out of our

hearts by the head and shoulders, and have

given ourselves without scruple to hell, that

ever the devil could have made you our delight?

Ford. What! a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?

Mrs. Page. A puffed man?

Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable

entrails?

Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan?

Page. And as poor as Job?

Ford. And as wicked as his wife?

Eva. And given to fonications, and to taverns,

and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to

drinkings, and swearings, and starings, prib-

bles, and prabbles?

Fal. Well, I am your theme: you have the start

of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer

the Welsh flannel: ignorance itself is a plummet

o’er me; use me as you will.

Ford. Marry, sir, we’ll bring you to Windsor,

to one Master Brook, that you have cozened of

money, to whom you should have been a pander:

over and above that you have suffered, I think,

to repay that money will be a biting affliction.

Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make

amends:

Forgive that sum, and so we’ll all be friends.

Ford.  Well, here’s my hand; all’s forgiven at

last.

Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat

a posset to-night at my house; where I will de-

sire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs

at tee. Tell her Master Slender hath married

her daughter.

Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page

be my daughter, she is by this Doctor Caius

wife.                                                [Aside.

 

(To be continued on 7/16/14 - Enjoy more of The Merry Wives of Windsor)


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Merry Wives of Windsor

Act. V, Pg. 68

SCENE IV.— Windsor Park.

       Enter. Sir HUGH EVANS, and Fairies.

Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember

your parts: be pold, I pray you; follow me into

the pit; and when I give the watch-’ords, do as

I pid you. Come, come; trib, trib.           [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—Another part of the Park.

Enter FALSTAFF disguised, with a buck’s

Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the

minute draws on. Now the hot-blooded gods

assist me:—Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull

for thy Europa; love set on thy horns.—O pow-

erful love! that in some respect makes a beast

a man; in some other a man a beast.—You

were also, Jupiter, a swan, for the love of Leda:

—O omnipotent love! how near the god drew

to the complexion of a goose?—A fault done

first in the form of a beast:—O Jove, a beastly

fault! and then another fault in the semblance

of a fowl; think on’t, Jove; a foul fault.—When

gods have hot backs what shall poor men do?

For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the

fattest, I think i’ the forest. Send me a cool

rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss

my tallow? Who comes here? my doe?

Enter Mrs. FORD and Mrs. PAGE.

Mrs. Ford. Sir John? art thou there, my deer?

my male deer?

Fal. My doe with the black scut? —Let the

sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of

Green Sleeves; hail kissing-comfits, and snow

eringoes; let there come a tempest of provoca-

tion, I will shelter me here.        [Embracing her.

Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me,

sweetheart.

Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a

haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my

shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my

horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a wood-

man? ha! Speak I like Herne the hunter?—

Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he

makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, wel-

come!                                    [Noise within.

Mrs. Page. Alas! what noise?

Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins!

Fal. What should this be?

Mrs. Ford. and Mrs. Page. Away, away.

[They run off.

Fal. I think the devil will not have me damned

lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire;

he would never else cross me thus.

Enter  Sir HUGH EVANS, like a satyr; Mrs.

QUICKLY and PISTOL; ANNE PAGE, as the

Fairy Queen, attended by her brother and

others, dressed like fairies, with waxen tapers

on their heads.

Quick. Fairies, black, gray, green, and white,

You moonshine revellers and shades of night,

You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny,

Attend your office and your quality.

Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes.

Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy

toys.

Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap:

Where fires thou find’st unrak’d and hearths

unswept.

There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:

Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery.

Fal. They are fairies; he that speaks to them

shall die:                               [eye.

I’ll wink and couch: no man their works must

[Lies down upon his face.

Eva. Where’s Pedc?—Go you, and where you

find a maid

That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,

Raise up the organs of her fantasy,

Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;

But those as sleep and think not on their sins,

Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides,

and shins.

Quick. About, about;

Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out:

Strew good luck ouphes, on every sacred room;

That it may stand till the perpetual doom,

In state as wholesome as in state ’tis fit,

Worthy the owner and the owner it.

The several chairs of order look you scour

With juice of balm and every precious flowers;

Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,

With loyal blazon evermore be blest!

And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,

Like to the Garter’s compass, in a ring:

The expressure that it bears, green let it be,

More fertile-fresh than all the field to see;

And, Honey soit qui mal y pense write,

In emerald tufts, flowers, purple, blue and white:

Like sapphire, pear, and rich embroidery,

Buckled below fair knighthood’s bending knee:

Fairies use flowers for their  charactery.

Away; disperse: but ’tis one o’clock,

Our dance of custom, round about the oak

Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.

Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves

in order set:

And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,

To guide our measure round about the tree.

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

Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!

lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!

Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook’d even in

thy birth.

Quick. 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.

Pist. A trial, come.

Eva.                Come, will this wood take fire

[They burn him with their tapers.

Fal. Oh, oh, oh!

Quick. Corrupt corrupt, and tainted in desire!

About him fairies; sing a scornful rhyme;

And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.

Eva. It is right; indeed he is full of lecheries

and iniquity.

SONG.

Fye on sinful fantasy!

Fye on lust and luxury!

Lust is but a bloody fire,

Kindled with unchaste desire,

Fed in heart; whose flames aspire,

As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher,

Pinch him, fairies, mutually;

Pinch him for his villany;

Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,

Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine be out.

During this song the fairies pinch FALSTAFF.

Doctor CAIUS comes one way, and steals away

a fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and 

takes off a fairy in white; and FENTON comes

ands steals away Mrs. Anne PAGE. A noise of

hunting is made within. All the fairies run away.

FALSTAFF pulls off his buck’s head and rises.

(To be continued on 7/15/14 - Enjoy more of The Merry Wives of Windsor)


Her Last Dance

I once knew a girl who was full of wild dreams

Each morning she woke with a new outlook on life

No two mornings were ever the same

She was happier than most

And even more innocent

She always wore a smile upon her face

And had a twinkle in her eye

She danced about with laughter in her voice

She sang a song loud enough for all to hear

Never a song known to it’s listeners

You couldn’t imagine anything that could get in her way

Til one day

The sky was dark

And the temperature suddenly dropped

It turned unseasonably cold

There was no smiling dancer

No laughter in the air

No warm and fuzzy feelings

Just a feeling of sadness and emptiness

Suddenly

a vision of a young girl

Laying flat on a stretcher

Carried by two solemn men

The sheet covering her face

Her small arms dangle swinging freely with each step the men took

It was said the poor girl had died in her sleep

From a larger tumor that laid in the center of her head

Her families only solace was in knowing that she was always happy

Their only wish what that she would have had time to live out some of her dreams

Copyright 2014 Her Last Dance© Felina Silver Robinson