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MENENIUS: One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, And sack great Rome with Romans. |
ISABELLA: Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Is it not strange and strange? |
LUCIO: Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. |
GREGORY: No, for then we should be colliers. |
CURTIS: Here. |
AUFIDIUS: Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? |
MOPSA: Let's have some merry ones. |
LUCENTIO: Well begun, Tranio. |
TRANIO: I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, That shall be wood and wedded in a day. |
ESCALUS: Hath she had any more than one husband? |
HORTENSIO: Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. Have to my widow! and if she be froward, Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. |
PAULINA: I am sorry for't: All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief: do not receive affliction At my petition; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd, that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!-- I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; I'll not remember you of my own lord, Who is lost too: take your patience to you, And I'll say nothing. |
GLOUCESTER: I know not whether to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. Best fitteth my degree or your condition If not to answer, you might haply think Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me; If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your faithful love to me. Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends. Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, Definitively thus I answer you. Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert Unmeritable shuns your high request. First if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As my ripe revenue and due by birth Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me, And much I need to help you, if need were; The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty, And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. On him I lay what you would lay on me, The right and fortune of his happy stars; Which God defend that I should wring from him! |
BUCKINGHAM: No, by my troth, my lord. |
All: |
All: We know't, we know't. |
FERDINAND: O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. |
Second Watchman: Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent, But to defend his person from night-foes? |
LADY ANNE: God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day! |
Post: These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain: 'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.' |
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