The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porcupine.

  COURTESAN

  He did, and from my finger snatched that ring.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  ’Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of her.

  DUKE (to Courtesan)

  Saw’st thou him enter at the abbey here?

  COURTESAN

  As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.

  DUKE

  Why, this is strange. Go call the Abbess hither.

  I think you are all mated, or stark mad.

  Exit one to the priory

  EGEON (coming forward)

  Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word.

  Haply I see a friend will save my life,

  And pay the sum that may deliver me.

  DUKE

  Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt.

  EGEON (to Antipholus)

  Is not your name, sir, called Antipholus?

  And is not that your bondman Dromio?

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS

  Within this hour I was his bondman, sir,

  But he, I thank him, gnawed in two my cords.

  Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.

  EGEON

  I am sure you both of you remember me.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS

  Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;

  For lately we were bound as you are now.

  You are not Pinch’s patient, are you, sir?

  EGEON

  Why look you strange on me? You know me well.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  I never saw you in my life till now.

  EGEON

  O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,

  And careful hours with time’s deformed hand

  Have written strange defeatures in my face.

  But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS Neither.

  EGEON Dromio, nor thou?

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, trust me sir, nor I.

  EGEON I am sure thou dost.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.

  EGEON

  Not know my voice ? O time’s extremity,

  Hast thou so cracked and splitted my poor tongue

  In seven short years that here my only son

  Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares?

  Though now this grained face of mine be hid

  In sap-consuming winter’s drizzled snow,

  And all the conduits of my blood froze up,

  Yet hath my night of life some memory,

  My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,

  My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.

  All these old witnesses, I cannot err,

  Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  I never saw my father in my life.

  EGEON

  But seven years since, in Syracusa bay,

  Thou know‘st we parted. But perhaps, my son,

  Thou sham’st to acknowledge me in misery.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  The Duke, and all that know me in the city,

  Can witness with me that it is not so.

  I ne’er saw Syracusa in my life.

  DUKE (to Egeon)

  I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years

  Have I been patron to Antipholus,

  During which time he ne’er saw Syracusa.

  I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

  Enter ⌈from the priory⌉ the Abbess, with Antipholus of Syracuse, wearing the chain, and Dromio of Syracuse

  ABBESS

  Most mighty Duke, behold a man much wronged.

  All gather to see them

  ADRIANA

  I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.

  DUKE

  One of these men is genius to the other:

  And so of these, which is the natural man,

  And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

  I, sir, am Dromio. Command him away.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS

  I, sir, am Dromio. Pray let me stay.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

  Egeon, art thou not? Or else his ghost.

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

  O, my old master, who hath bound him here?

  ABBESS

  Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,

  And gain a husband by his liberty.

  Speak, old Egeon, if thou beest the man

  That hadst a wife once called Emilia,

  That bore thee at a burden two fair sons.

  O, if thou beest the same Egeon, speak,

  And speak unto the same Emilia.

  DUKE

  Why, here begins his morning story right:

  These two Antipholus’, these two so like,

  And these two Dromios, one in semblance—

  Besides his urging of her wreck at sea.

  These are the parents to these children,

  Which accidentally are met together.

  EGEON

  If I dream not, thou art Emilia.

  If thou art she, tell me, where is that son

  That floated with thee on the fatal raft?

  ABBESS

  By men of Epidamnum he and I

  And the twin Dromio all were taken up.

  But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth

  By force took Dromio and my son from them,

  And me they left with those of Epidamnum.

  What then became of them I cannot tell;

  I, to this fortune that you see me in.

  DUKE (to Antipholus of Syracuse)

  Antipholus, thou cam’st from Corinth first.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

  No, sir, not I. I came from Syracuse.

  DUKE

  Stay, stand apart. I know not which is which.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS And I with him.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  Brought to this town by that most famous warrior,

  Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.

  ADRIANA

  Which of you two did dine with me today?

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE I, gentle mistress.

  ADRIANA And are not you my husband?

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS No, I say nay to that.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

  And so do I. Yet did she call me so;

  And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,

  Did call me brother. (To Luciana) What I told you then

  I hope I shall have leisure to make good,

  If this be not a dream I see and hear.

  ANGELO

  That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

  I think it be, sir. I deny it not.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS (to Angelo)

  And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.

  ANGELO

  I think I did, sir. I deny it not.

  ADRIANA (to Antipholus of Ephesus)

  I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,

  By Dromio, but I think he brought it not.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, none by me.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE (to Adriana)

  This purse of ducats I received from you,

  And Dromio my man did bring them me.

  I see we still did meet each other’s man,

  And I was ta’en for him, and he for me,

  And thereupon these errors are arose.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  These ducats pawn I for my father here.

  DUKE

  It shall not need. Thy father hath his life.

  COURTESAN

  Sir, I must have that diamond from you.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  There, take it, and much thanks for my good cheer.

/>   ABBESS

  Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains

  To go with us into the abbey here,

  And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes,

  And all that are assembled in this place,

  That by this sympathized one day’s error

  Have suffered wrong. Go, keep us company,

  And we shall make full satisfaction.

  Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail

  Of you, my sons, and till this present hour

  My heavy burden ne’er delivered.

  The Duke, my husband, and my children both,

  And you the calendars of their nativity,

  Go to a gossips’ feast, and joy with me.

  After so long grief, such festivity!

  DUKE

  With all my heart I’ll gossip at this feast.

  Exeunt ⌈into the priory⌉ all but the two Dromios and two brothers Antipholus

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE (to Antipholus of Ephesus)

  Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?

  ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS

  Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embarked?

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

  Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur.

  ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE

  He speaks to me.—I am your master, Dromio.

  Come, go with us. We’ll look to that anon.

  Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.

  Exeunt the brothers Antipholus

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE

  There is a fat friend at your master’s house,

  That kitchened me for you today at dinner.

  She now shall be my sister, not my wife.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS

  Methinks you are my glass and not my brother.

  I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.

  Will you walk in to see their gossiping?

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not I, sir, you are my elder.

  DROMIO or EPHESUS That’s a question. How shall we try it?

  DROMIO OF SYRACUSE We’ll draw cuts for the senior. Till then, lead thou first.

  DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, then thus:

  We came into the world like brother and brother,

  And now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another.

  Exeunt ⌈to the priory⌉

  LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST

  THE first, 1598 edition of Love’s Labour’s Lost is the earliest play text to carry Shakespeare’s name on the title-page, which also refers to performance before the Queen ‘this last Christmas’. The play is said to be ‘Newly corrected and augmented’, so perhaps an earlier edition has failed to survive. Even so, the text shows every sign of having been printed from Shakespeare’s working papers, since it includes some passages in draft as well as in revised form. We print the drafts as Additional Passages. The play was probably written some years before publication, in 1594 or 1595.

  The setting is Navarre—a kingdom straddling the border between Spain and France—where the young King and three of his friends vow to devote the following three years to austere self-improvement, forgoing the company of women. But they have forgotten the imminent arrival on a diplomatic mission of the Princess of France with, as it happens, three of her ladies; much comedy derives from, first, the men’s embarrassed attempts to conceal from one another that they are falling in love, and second, the girls’ practical joke in exchanging identities when the men, disguised as Russians, come to entertain and to woo them. Shakespeare seems to have picked up the King’s friends’ names—Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville—from leading figures in contemporary France, but to have invented the plot himself. He counterpoints the main action with events involving characters based in part on the type-figures of Italian commedia dell‘arte who reflect facets of the lords’ personalities. Costard, an unsophisticated, open-hearted yokel, and his girl-friend Jaquenetta are sexually uninhibited; Don Adriano de Armado, ‘a refinèd traveller of Spain’ who also, though covertly, loves Jaquenetta, is full of pompous affectation; and Holofernes, a schoolmaster (seen always with his doting companion, the curate Sir Nathaniel), demonstrates the avid pedantry into which the young men’s verbal brilliance could degenerate. Much of the play’s language is highly sophisticated (this is, as the title-page claims, a ‘conceited comedy’), in keeping with its subject matter. But the action reaches its climax when a messenger brings news which is communicated entirely without verbal statement. This is a theatrical masterstroke which also signals Shakespeare’s most daring experiment with comic form. ‘The scene begins to cloud’; in the play’s closing minutes the lords and ladies seek to readjust themselves to the new situation, and the play ends in subdued fashion with a third entertainment, the songs of the owl and the cuckoo.

  Love’s Labour’s Lost was for long regarded as a play of excessive verbal sophistication, of interest mainly because of a series of supposed topical allusions; but a number of distinguished twentieth-century productions revealed its theatrical mastery.

  THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

  Ferdinand, KING of Navarre

  Don Adriano de ARMADO, an affected Spanish braggart

  MOTE, his page

  PRINCESS of France

  COSTARD, a Clown

  JAQUENETTA, a country wench

  Sir NATHANIEL, a curate

  HOLOFERNES, a schoolmaster

  Anthony DULL, a constable

  MERCADE, a messenger

  A FORESTER

  Love’s Labour’s Lost

  1.1 Enter Ferdinand, King of Navarre, Biron, Longueville, and Dumaine

  KING

  Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,

  Live registered upon our brazen tombs,

  And then grace us in the disgrace of death

  When, spite of cormorant devouring time,

  Th’endeavour of this present breath may buy

  That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge

  And make us heirs of all eternity.

  Therefore, brave conquerors—for so you are,

  That war against your own affections

  And the huge army of the world’s desires—

  Our late edict shall strongly stand in force.

  Navarre shall be the wonder of the world.

  Our court shall be a little academe,

  Still and contemplative in living art.

  You three—Biron, Dumaine, and Longueville—

  Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me

  My fellow scholars, and to keep those statutes

  That are recorded in this schedule here.

  Your oaths are passed; and now subscribe your names,

  That his own hand may strike his honour down

  That violates the smallest branch herein.

  If you are armed to do as sworn to do,

  Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it, too.

  LONGUEVILLE

  I am resolved. ‘Tis but a three years’ fast.

  The mind shall banquet, though the body pine.

  Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits

  Make rich the ribs but bankrupt quite the wits.

  He signs

  DUMAINE

  My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified.

  The grosser manner of these world’s delights

  He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves.

  To love, to wealth, to pomp I pine and die,

  With all these living in philosophy.

  He signs

  BIRON

  I can but say their protestation over.

  So much, dear liege, I have already sworn:

  That is, to live and study here three years.

  But there are other strict observances,

  As not to see a woman in that term,

  Which I hope well is not enrolled there;

  And one day in a week to touch no food,

  And but one meal on every day beside,

  The which I hope is not enrolled ther
e;

  And then to sleep but three hours in the night,

  And not be seen to wink of all the day,

  When I was wont to think no harm all night,

  And make a dark night too of half the day,

  Which I hope well is not enrolled there.

  O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep—

  Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.

  KING

  Your oath is passed to pass away from these.

  BIRON

  Let me say no, my liege, an if you please.

  I only swore to study with your grace,

  And stay here in your court, for three years’ space.

  LONGUEVILLE

  You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.

  BIRON

  By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.

  What is the end of study, let me know?

  KING

  Why, that to know which else we should not know.

  BIRON

  Things hid and barred, you mean, from common sense.

  KING

  Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.

  BIRON

  Come on, then, I will swear to study so

  To know the thing I am forbid to know,

  As thus: to study where I well may dine

  When I to feast expressly am forbid,

  Or study where to meet some mistress fine

  When mistresses from common sense are hid;

  Or having sworn too hard a keeping oath,

  Study to break it and not break my troth.

  If study’s gain be thus, and this be so,

  Study knows that which yet it doth not know.

  Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no.

  KING

  These be the stops that hinder study quite,

  And train our intellects to vain delight.

  BIRON

  Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain

  Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain;

  As painfully to pore upon a book

  To seek the light of truth while truth the while

  Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.

  Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile;

  So ere you find where light in darkness lies

  Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.

  Study me how to please the eye indeed

  By fixing it upon a fairer eye,

  Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,