The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 472

Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night!

Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath.

What further woe conspires against mine age?

Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave?

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities And know their spring, their head, their true descent; And then will I be general of your woes And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience.

Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Friar. I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me, of this direful murther; And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excus'd.

Prince. Then say it once what thou dost know in this.

Friar. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale.

Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife.

I married them; and their stol'n marriage day Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.

You, to remove that siege of grief from her, Betroth'd and would have married her perforce To County Paris. Then comes she to me And with wild looks bid me devise some mean To rid her from this second marriage, Or in my cell there would she kill herself.

Then gave I her (so tutored by my art) A sleeping potion; which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo That he should hither come as this dire night To help to take her from her borrowed grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease.

But he which bore my letter, Friar John, Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight Return'd my letter back. Then all alone At the prefixed hour of her waking Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; Meaning to keep her closely at my cell Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.

But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awaking, here untimely lay The n.o.ble Paris and true Romeo dead.

She wakes; and I entreated her come forth And bear this work of heaven with patience; But then a noise did scare me from the tomb, And she, too desperate, would not go with me, But, as it seems, did violence on herself.

All this I know, and to the marriage Her nurse is privy; and if aught in this Miscarried by my fault, let my old life Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, Unto the rigour of severest law.

Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.

Where's Romeo's man? What can he say in this?

Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument.

This letter he early bid me give his father, And threat'ned me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not and left him there.

Prince. Give me the letter. I will look on it.

Where is the County's page that rais'd the watch?

Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

Boy. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; And bid me stand aloof, and so I did.

Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; And by-and-by my master drew on him; And then I ran away to call the watch.

Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death; And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.

Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montage, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!

And I, for winking at you, discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish'd.

Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand.

This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Can I demand.

Mon. But I can give thee more; For I will raise her Statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie- Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun for sorrow will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished; For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Exeunt omnes.

THE END

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1594

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

by William Shakespeare

Dramatis Personae

Persons in the Induction A LORD CHRISTOPHER SLY, a tinker HOSTESS PAGE PLAYERS HUNTSMEN SERVANTS

BAPTISTA MINOLA, a gentleman of Padua VINCENTIO, a Merchant of Pisa LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca PETRUCHIO, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katherina

Suitors to Bianca GREMIO HORTENSIO

Servants to Lucentio TRANIO BIONDELLO

Servants to Petruchio GRUMIO CURTIS

A PEDANT

Daughters to Baptista KATHERINA, the shrew BIANCA

A WIDOW

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio

SCENE: Padua, and PETRUCHIO'S house in the country

SC_1 INDUCTION. SCENE I.

Before an alehouse on a heath

Enter HOSTESS and SLY

SLY. I'll pheeze you, in faith.

HOSTESS. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

SLY. Y'are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues. Look in the chronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa!

HOSTESS. You will not pay for the gla.s.ses you have burst?

SLY. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed and warm thee.

HOSTESS. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough.

Exit SLY. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law.

I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.

[Falls asleep]

Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with his train

LORD. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds; Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.

Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?

I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

FIRST HUNTSMAN. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cried upon it at the merest loss, And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent; Trust me, I take him for the better dog.