Archives For William Shakespeare


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace 

Leon.                                                   Traitors!

Will you not push her out? Give her the

bastard:—

Thou dotard [to ANTIGONUS], thou art woman-

tir’d, unroosted

By thy dame Partlet here:—take up the

bastard;

Take’t up, I say; give’t to thy crone.

Paul.                                                 For ever

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou

Tak’st up the princess, by that forced baseness

Which he has put upon’t!

Leon.                                He dreads hi wife.

Paul. So I would you did; then ’twere past

all doubt,

You’d call your children yours.

Leon.                                    A nest of traitors!

Anl. I am none, by this good light.

Paul.                                   Nor I; nor any,

But one, that’s here; and that’s himself: for he

The sacred honour of himself, his queen’s,

His hopeful son’s, his babe’s, betrays to slander,

Whose sting is sharper than the sword’s; and

will not,—

For, as the case now stands, it is a curse

He cannot be compell’d to’t,—once remove

The root of his opinion, which is rotten

As ever oak or stone was sound.

Leon.                                            A callat

Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her

husband,

And now baits me!—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.

Paul.                               It is yours!    [charge,

And, might we lay the old proverb to your

So like you, ’tis the worse.—Behold, my lords,

Although the print be little, the whole matter

And copy of the father,—eye, nose, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the

valley,                                                 [smiles;

The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his

The very mould and frame of hand, nail,

finger:—                                       [made it

And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast

So like to him that got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the mind to, ‘mongst all

colours

No yellow in’t, lest the suspect, as he does,

Her children not her husband’s!

Leon.                                            A gross hag!

And, losel, thou art not worthy to be hang’d,

That wilt not stay her tongue.

Ant.                              Hang all the husbands

That cannot do that feat, you’ll have yourself

Hardly one subject.

Leon.                      Once more, take her hence.

Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord

Can do no more.

Leon.                   I’ll have thee burn’d.

Paul.                                              I care not.

It is an heretic that makes the fire,    [tyrant;

Not she which burns in’t. I’ll not call you

But this most cruel usage of your queen,—

Not able to produce more accusation  [savours

Than your own weak-hing’d fancy,—something

Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you,

Yea, scandalous to the world.

Leon.                                    On your allegiance,

Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,

Where were her life? she durst not call me so,

If she did know me one. Away with her!

Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I’ll be

gone.—                                       [send her

Look to your babe, my lord; ’tis yours: Jove

A better guiding spirit!—What needs these

hands?

You, that are thus so tender o’er his follies,

Will never do him good, not one of you.

So, so:—farewell; we are gone.               Exit.

Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to

this.—

My child? away with’t!—even thou, that hast

A heart so tender o’er it, take it hence,

And see it instantly consum’d with fire;

Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up

straight:

Within this hour bring me word ’tis done,—

And by good testimony,—or I’ll seize thy life,

With what thou else call’st thine. If thou refuse,

And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;

The bastard-brains with these my proper hands

Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;

For thou sett’st on thy wife.

Ant.                                    I did not, sir:

These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,

Can clear me in’t.

Lord.                 We can:—my royal liege,

He is not guilty of her coming hither.

Leon. You are liars all.                             [credit:

Lord. Beseech your highness, give us better

We have always truly serv’d you; and beseech

So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg,—

As recompense of our dear services,

Past and to come,—that you do change this

purpose,

Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must

Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel.

Leon. I am a feather for each wind that

blows:—

Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel

And call me father? better burn it now,

Than curse it then. But, be it; let it live:—

It shall not neither.—You, sir, come you hither:

[To ANTIGONUS.

You that have been so tenderly officious

With Lady Margery, your midwife, there,

To save this bastard’s life,—for ’tis a bastard,

So sure as thy beard’s gray,—what will you

adventure

To save this brat’s life?

Ant.                              Anything, my lord,

That my ability may undergo,

And nobleness impose: at least, thus much;

I’ll pawn the little blood which I have left,

To save the innocent:—anything possible.

Leon. It shall be possible. Swear by this.

sword

Thou wilt perform my bidding.

Ant.                                         I will, my lord.

Leon. Mark, and perform it,—seest thou? for

the fail

Of any point in’t shall not only be

Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu’d wife,

Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,

As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry

This female bastard hence; and that thou bear

it

To some remote and desert place, quite out

Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it,

Without more mercy, to its own protection

And favour of the climate. As by strange for-

tune

It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,

On thy soul’s peril and thy body’s torture,

That thou commend it strangely to some place,

Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.

Ant. I swear to do this, though a present

death

Had been more merciful.—Come on, 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.—Sir, be prosperous       [ing,

In more than this deed does require!—and bless-

Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,

Poor thing, condemn’d to loss!

[Exit with the child.

Leon.                                       No, I’ll not rear

Another’s issue.

Attend.           Please your highness, posts,

From those you sent to the oracle, are come

An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,

Being well arriv’d from Delphos, are both landed,

Hasting to the court.

Lord.               So please you, sir, their speed

Hath been beyond account.

Leon.                                   Twenty-three days

They have been absent: ’tis good speed; fore-

tells

The great Apollo suddenly will have

The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;

Summon a session, that we may arraign

Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath

Been publicly accus’d, so shall she have

A just and open trial. While she lies,

My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me;

And think upon my bidding.                [Exeunt.

(On 10/2/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT III. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A street in some Town.


Piteous (adj.)

One is full of pity, compassionate, or tender


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace 

Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords and

other Attendants.

Leon. Nor night nor day no rest: it is but

weakness.

To bear the matter thus,—mere weakness.  If

The cause were not in being,—part o’ the cause.

She the adultress; for the hariot king

Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank

And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she

I can hook to me:—say that she were gone,

Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest

Might come to me again.—Who’s there?

Atten. [Advancing.]                          My lord?

Leon. How does the boy?

1 Atten.              He took good rest to-night;

‘Tis hop’d his sickness is discharg’d.

Leon. To see his nobleness!

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,

He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply,

Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself,

Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,

And downright languish’d.—Leave me solely:

—go,

See how he fares. [Exit 1 Attend.]—Fie, fie! no

thought of him;

The very thought of my revenges that way

Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,

And in his parties, his alliance,—let him be,

Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,

Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes

Laugh at me; make their pastime at my sorrow.

They should not laugh if I could reach them;

nor

Shall she, within my power.

Enter PAULINA, with a child.

Lord.                 You must not enter

Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second

to me:

Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,

Than the queen’s life? a gorgeous innocent soul,

More free than he is jealous.

Ant.                                       That’s enough.

Attend. Madam, he hath not slept tonight;

commanded

None should come at him.

Paul.                                  Not so hot, good sir;

I come to bring him sleep. ‘Tis such as you,—

That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh

At each his needless heavings,—such as you

Nourish the cause of his awaking: I

Do come, with words as med’cinal as true,

Honest as either, to purge him of that humour

That presses him from sleep.

Leon.                              What noise there, ho?

Paul. No noise, my lord; but needful con-

ference

About some gossips for your highness.

Leon.                                                    How!—

Away with that audacious lady!—Antigonus,

I charg’d thee that she should not come about

me:

I knew she would.

Ant.                      I told her so, my lord,

On your displeasure’s peril, and on mine,

She should not visit you.

Leon.                       What, canst not rule her?

Paul. From all dishonesty, he can: in this,—

Unless he take the course that you have done,

Commit me for committing honour,—trust it,

He shall not rule me.

Ant.                            La you now, you hear!

When she will take the rein, I let her run;

But she’ll not stumble.

Paul.                        God my liege, I come,—

And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess

Myself your loyal servant, your physician,

Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares

Less appear so, in comforting your evils,

Than such as most seem yours:—I say, I

come

From your good queen.

Leon.                             Good queen!

Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen: I

say, good queen;

And would by combat make her good, so were I

A man, he worst about you.

Leon.                                   Force her hence!

Paul. Le him that make but trifles of his

eyes

First hand me: on mine own accord I’ll ogg;

But first I’ll do my errand.—The good queen,

For she is good, hath brought you forth a

daughter;

Here ’tis; commends it to your blessing.

[Laying down the child.

Leon.                                                   Out!

A mankind-witch! Hence with her, out o’ door:

A most intelligencing bawd!

Paul.                                   Not so:

I am as ignorant in that as you

In so entitling me; and no less honest       [rant

Than you are mad; which is enough, I’ll war-

As this world goes, to pass for honest.

(On 10/1/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace.


Land-Damn

Beat the hell out of, thrash without pity. It has all been known to be defined as: “to kill by stopping the urine or to extirpate”.


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

ACT II. SCENE II. —The same. The outer Room of a 

Prison.

Enter PAULINA and Attendants.

Paul. The keeper of the prison,—call to him;

Let him have knowledge who I am.

[Exit an Attendant.

No court in Europe is too good for thee;

What dost thou, then, in prison?

Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.

Now, good sir.

You know me, do you not?

Keep.                                 For a worthy lady,

And one who much I honour.

Paul.                                      Pray you, then,

Conduct me to the queen.

Keep. I may not, madam: to the contrary

I have express commandment.

Paul.                                         Here’s ado,

To lock up honesty and honour from

The access of gentle visitors!—Is’t lawful,

Pray you, to see her women? any of them?

Emilia?

Keep. So please you, madam, to put

Apart these your attendants, I shall bring

Emilia forth.

Paul.           I pray now, call her.—

Withdraw yourselves.            [Exeunt Attend.

Keep.                          And, madam,

I must be present at your conference.

Paul. Well, be’t so, pr’ythee. [Exit Keeper.

Here’s such ado to make no stain in stain,

As passes colouring.

Re-enter Keeper, with EMILIA.

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady?

Emil. As we as one so great and so forlorn

May hold together: on her frights and griefs,—

Which never tender lady hath borne greater,—

She is, something before her time, deliver’d.

Paul. A boy?

Emil.         A daughter; and a goodly babe,

Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives

Much comfort in’t; says, My poor prisoner,

I am innocent as you.

Paul.                           I date e sworn:—

These dangerous unsafe lunes i’ the king, be-

shrew them!

He must be told on’t, and he shall: the office

Becomes a woman best: I’ll take’t upon me:

If I prove honey-mouth’d, let my tongue glis-

ter;

And never to my red-look’d anger be

The trumpet any more.—Pray you, Emilia,

Commend my best obedience to the queen;

If she dares trust me with her little babe,

I’ll show’t the king, and undertake to be

Her advocate to the loud’st. We do not know

How he may soften at the sight o’ the child:

The silence often of pure innocence

Persuades, when speaking fails.

Eil.                                     Most worthy madam,

Your honour and your goodness is so evident,

That your free undertaking cannot miss

A thriving issue: there is no lady living

So meet for this great errand. Please your lady-

ship

To visit the next room, I’ll presently

Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer.

Who but to-day hammer’d of this design,

But durst not tempt a minister of honour,

Lest she should be denied.

Paul.                                   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.

Emil.                  Now be you bless’d for it!

I’ll to the queen: please you come something

nearer.

Keep. Madam, if’t please the queen to send

the babe,

I know not what I shall incur to pass it?

Having no warrant.

Paul. Youl need not fear it, sir:

The child was prisoner to the womb, and is,

By law and process of great nature, thence

Freed and enfranchis’d, not a party to

The anger of the ing, nor guilty of,

If any be, the trespass of the queen.

Keep. I do believe it.

Paul. Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I

Will stand ‘twixt you and danger. [Exeunt.

(On 9/30/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE III. —The same. A Room in the Palace.


Glib

Glib as used in “The Winter’s Tale” is defined as “castrate”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

ACT II. SCENE I. —SICILIA. A Room in the Palace

Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies.

Leon.                               Shall I be heard?

[To the Guards.

Her. Who is’t that goes with me?—Beseech

your highness,

My women may be with me; for you see,

My plight requires it.—Do not weep, good fools;

There is no cause: when you shall know your

mistress

Has deserv’d prison, then abound in tears

As I come out: this action I now go on

Is for my better grace.—Adieu, my lord:

I never wish’d to see you sorry; now    [leave.

I trust I shall.—My women, come; you have

Leon. Go, do our bidding; hence!

[Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies, with Guards.

Lord. Beseech your highness, call the

queen again.

Ant. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your

justice                                              [suffer,

Prove violence: in the which three great ones

Yourself, your queen, your son.

1 Lord.                                For her, my lord,—

I dare my life lay down, and will do’t, sir,

Please you to accept it, that the queen is spot-

less

I’ the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean

In this which you accuse her.

Ant.                                       If it prove

She’s otherwise, I’ll keep my stables where

I lodge my wife; I’ll go in couples with her;

Than when I feel and see her no further trust

her;

For every inch of woman in the world,

Ay, every dram of woman’s flesh, is false,

If she be.

Leon. Hold your peaces.

Lord.                            Good my lord,—

Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:

You are abus’d and by some putter-on,

That will be damn’d for’t: would I knew the

villain,                                         [flaw’d—

I would land-damn him. Be she honour-

I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven;

The second and the third, nine and some five;

If this prove true, they’ll pay for’t: by mine

honour,

I’ll geld ‘em all: fourteen they shall not see,

To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;

And I had rather glib myself than they

Should not produce fair issue.

Leon.                                      Cease; no more.

You smell this business with a sense as cold

As if a dead man’s nose: but I do see’t and feel’t,

As you feel doing thus; and see withal

The instruments that feel.

Ant.                                  If it be so,

We need no grave to bury honesty;

There’s not a grain of it the face to sweeten

OF the whole dungy earth.

Leon.                                 What! lack I credit?

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack than I, my

lord,                                                       [me

Upon this ground: and more it would content

To have her honour true than your suspicion;

Be blam’d for’t how you might.

Leon.                                 Why, what need we

Commune with you of this, but rather follow

Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative

Calls not your counsels, but our natural good-

ness

Imparts this: which, if you,—or stupefied

Or seeming so in skill,—cannot or will not

Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves

We need no more of your advice: the matter,

The loss, the gain, the ordering on’t, is all

Properly ours.

Ant.                And I wish, my liege,

You had only in your silent judgment tried it,

Without more overture.

Leon.                            How could that be?

Either thou art most ignorant by age,

Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo’s flight,

Added to their familiarity,—

Which was a gross as ever touch’d conjecture,

That lack’d sight only, naught for approbation,

But only seeing, all other circumstances

Made up to the deed,—doth push on this pro-

ceeding.

Yet, for a greater confirmation,—

For, in an act of this importance, ’twere

Most piteous to be wild,000I have despatch’d in

post

To sacred Delphos, to Apollo’s temple,

Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know

Of stuff’d sufficiency: now, from the oracle

They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,

Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?

1 Lord. Well done, my lord.

Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more

Than what I know, yet shall the oracle

Give rest to the minds of others such as he

Whose ignorant credulity will not              [good

Come up to the truth: so have we thought it

From our free person she should be confin’d;

Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence

Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;

We are to speak in public; for this business

Will raise us all.

Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it,

If the good truth were known         [Exeunt.

(On 9/28/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Winter’s Tale”,

ACT II. SCENE II. —The same. The outer Room of a 

Prison.