HAMLET

Plot
Act I
The protagonist of Hamlet is Prince Hamlet of Denmark, son of the recently deceased King Hamlet, and nephew of King Claudius, his father's
brother and successor. Claudius hastily married King Hamlet's widow, Gertrude, Hamlet's mother, and took the throne for himself. Denmark has
a long-standing feud with neighbouring Norway, in which King Hamlet slew King Fortinbras of Norway in a battle some years ago. Although
Denmark defeated Norway, and the Norwegian throne fell to King Fortinbras's infirm brother, Denmark fears that an invasion led by the dead
Norwegian king's son, Prince Fortinbras, is imminent.
On a cold night on the ramparts of Elsinore, the Danish royal castle, the sentries Bernardo and Marcellus discuss a ghost resembling the late King
Hamlet which they have recently seen, and bring Prince Hamlet's friend Horatio as a witness. After the ghost appears again, the three vow to tell
Prince Hamlet what they have witnessed.
As the court gathers the next day, while King Claudius and Queen Gertrude discuss affairs of state with their elderly adviser Polonius, Hamlet
looks on glumly. During the court, Claudius grants permission for Polonius's son Laertes to return to school in France and sends envoys to inform
the King of Norway about Fortinbras. Claudius also scolds Hamlet for continuing to grieve over his father and forbids him from returning to his
schooling in Wittenberg. After the court exits, Hamlet despairs of his father's death and his mother's hasty remarriage. Learning of the ghost from
Horatio, Hamlet resolves to see it himself.
As Polonius's son Laertes prepares to depart for a visit to France, Polonius gives him contradictory advice that culminates in the ironic maxim "to
thine own self be true."[6] Polonius's daughter, Ophelia, admits her interest in Hamlet, but Laertes warns her against seeking the prince's attention,
and Polonius orders her to reject his advances. That night on the rampart, the ghost appears to Hamlet, telling the prince that he was murdered by
Claudius and demanding that Hamlet avenge him. Hamlet agrees and the ghost vanishes. The prince confides to Horatio and the sentries that from
now on he plans to "put an antic disposition on", or act as though he has gone mad, and forces them to swear to keep his plans for revenge secret.
Privately, however, he remains uncertain of the ghost's reliability.
Act II
Soon thereafter, Ophelia rushes to her father, telling him that Hamlet arrived at her door the prior night half-undressed and behaving erratically.
Polonius blames love for Hamlet's madness and resolves to inform Claudius and Gertrude. As he enters to do so, the king and queen finish
welcoming Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, two student acquaintances of Hamlet, to Elsinore. The royal couple has requested that the students
investigate the cause of Hamlet's mood and behaviour. Additional news requires that Polonius wait to be heard: messengers from Norway inform
Claudius that the King of Norway has rebuked Prince Fortinbras for attempting to re-fight his father's battles. The forces that Fortinbras had
conscripted to march against Denmark will instead be sent against Poland, though they will pass through Danish territory to get there.
Polonius tells Claudius and Gertrude his theory regarding Hamlet's behaviour, and speaks to Hamlet in a hall of the castle to try to uncover more
information. Hamlet feigns madness but subtly insults Polonius all the while. When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive, Hamlet greets his
"friends" warmly, but quickly discerns that they are spies. Hamlet becomes bitter, admitting that he is upset at his situation but refusing to give
the true reason why, instead commenting on "what a piece of work" humanity is. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern tell Hamlet that they have
brought along a troupe of actors that they met while traveling to Elsinore. Hamlet, after welcoming the actors and dismissing his friends-turned-
spies, asks them to deliver a soliloquy about the death of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at the climax of the Trojan War. Impressed by their
delivery of the speech, he plots to stage The Murder of Gonzago, a play featuring a death in the style of his father's murder, and to determine the
truth of the ghost's story, as well as Claudius's guilt or innocence, by studying Claudius's reaction.
Act III
Polonius forces Ophelia to return Hamlet's love letters and tokens of affection to the prince while he and Claudius watch from afar to evaluate
Hamlet's reaction. Hamlet is walking alone in the hall as the King and Polonius await Ophelia's entrance, musing whether "to be or not to be".
When Ophelia enters and tries to return Hamlet's things, Hamlet accuses her of immodesty and cries "get thee to a nunnery", though it is unclear
whether this, too, is a show of madness or genuine distress. His reaction convinces Claudius that Hamlet is not mad for love. Shortly thereafter,
the court assembles to watch the play Hamlet has commissioned. After seeing the Player King murdered by his rival pouring poison in his ear,
Claudius abruptly rises and runs from the room: for Hamlet, proof positive of his uncle's guilt.
Gertrude summons Hamlet to her room to demand an explanation. Meanwhile, Claudius talks to himself about the impossibility of repenting,
since he still has possession of his ill-gotten goods: his brother's crown and wife. He sinks to his knees. Hamlet, on his way to visit his mother,
sneaks up behind him, but does not kill him, reasoning that killing Claudius while he is praying will send him straight to heaven while his father's
ghost is stuck in purgatory. In the queen's bedchamber, Hamlet and Gertrude fight bitterly. Polonius, spying on the conversation from behind
a tapestry, makes a noise.
Hamlet, believing it is Claudius, stabs wildly, killing Polonius, but pulls aside the curtain and sees his mistake. In a rage, Hamlet brutally insults
his mother for her apparent ignorance of Claudius's villainy, but the ghost enters and reprimands Hamlet for his inaction and harsh words. Unable
to see or hear the ghost herself, Gertrude takes Hamlet's conversation with it as further evidence of madness. After begging the queen to stop
sleeping with Claudius, Hamlet leaves, dragging Polonius's corpse away.
Act IV
Hamlet jokes with Claudius about where he has hidden Polonius's body, and the king, fearing for his life, sends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to
accompany Hamlet to England with a sealed letter to the English king requesting that Hamlet be executed immediately.
Demented by grief at Polonius's death, Ophelia wanders Elsinore. Laertes arrives back from France, enraged by his father's death and his sister's
madness. Claudius convinces Laertes that Hamlet is solely responsible, but a letter soon arrives indicating that Hamlet has returned to Denmark,
foiling Claudius' plan. Claudius switches tactics, proposing a fencing match between Laertes and Hamlet to settle their differences. Laertes will
be given a poison-tipped foil, and Claudius will offer Hamlet poisoned wine as a congratulation if that fails. Gertrude interrupts to report that
Ophelia has drowned, though it is unclear whether it was suicide or an accident exacerbated by her madness.

Act V
Horatio has received a letter from Hamlet, explaining that the prince escaped by negotiating with pirates who attempted to attack his England-
bound ship, and the friends reunite offstage. Two gravediggers discuss Ophelia's apparent suicide while digging her grave. Hamlet arrives with
Horatio and banters with one of the gravediggers, who unearths the skull of a jester from Hamlet's childhood, Yorick. Hamlet picks up the skull,
saying "alas, poor Yorick" as he contemplates mortality. Ophelia's funeral procession approaches, led by Laertes. Hamlet and Horatio initially
hide, but when Hamlet realizes that Ophelia is the one being buried, he reveals himself, proclaiming his love for her. Laertes and Hamlet fight by
Ophelia's graveside, but the brawl is broken up.
Back at Elsinore, Hamlet explains to Horatio that he had discovered Claudius's letter with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's belongings and
replaced it with a forged copy indicating that his former friends should be killed instead. A foppish courtier, Osric, interrupts the conversation to
deliver the fencing challenge to Hamlet. Hamlet, despite Horatio's pleas, accepts it. Hamlet does well at first, leading the match by two hits to
none, and Gertrude raises a toast to him using the poisoned glass of wine Claudius had set aside for Hamlet. Claudius tries to stop her, but is too
late: she drinks, and Laertes realizes the plot will be revealed. Laertes slashes Hamlet with his poisoned blade. In the ensuing scuffle, they switch
weapons and Hamlet wounds Laertes with his own poisoned sword. Gertrude collapses and, claiming she has been poisoned, dies. In his dying
moments, Laertes reconciles with Hamlet and reveals Claudius's plan. Hamlet rushes at Claudius and kills him. As the poison takes effect,
Hamlet, hearing that Fortinbras is marching through the area, names the Norwegian prince as his successor. Horatio, distraught at the thought of
being the last survivor and living whilst Hamlet does not, says he will commit suicide by drinking the dregs of Gertrude's poisoned wine, but
Hamlet begs him to live on and tell his story. Hamlet dies in Horatio's arms, proclaiming "the rest is silence". Fortinbras, who was ostensibly
marching towards Poland with his army, arrives at the palace, along with an English ambassador bringing news of Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern's deaths. Horatio promises to recount the full story of what happened, and Fortinbras, seeing the entire Danish royal family dead,
takes the crown for himself, and orders a military funeral to honour Hamlet.

KING LEAR

Synopsis[edit]

Act I[edit]
King Lear of Britain, elderly and wanting to retire from the duties of the monarchy, decides to divide his realm among his three daughters, and
declares he will offer the largest share to the one who loves him most. The eldest, Goneril, speaks first, declaring her love for her father in
fulsome terms. Moved by her flattery Lear proceeds to grant to Goneril her share as soon as she has finished her declaration,
before Regan and Cordelia have a chance to speak. He then awards to Regan her share as soon as she has spoken. When it is finally the turn of his
youngest and favourite daughter, Cordelia, at first she refuses to say anything ("Nothing, my Lord") and then declares there is nothing to compare
her love to, nor words to properly express it; she speaks honestly but bluntly, that she loves him according to her bond, no more and no less.
Infuriated, Lear disinherits Cordelia and divides her share between her elder sisters.
The Earl of Gloucester and the Earl of Kent observe that, by dividing his realm between Goneril and Regan, Lear has awarded his realm in equal
shares to the peerages of the Duke of Albany (Goneril's husband) and the Duke of Cornwall (Regan's husband). Kent objects to Lear's unfair
treatment of Cordelia; enraged by Kent's protests, Lear banishes him from the country. Lear then summons the Duke of Burgundy and the King
of France, who have both proposed marriage to Cordelia. Learning that Cordelia has been disinherited, the Duke of Burgundy withdraws his suit,
but the King of France is impressed by her honesty and marries her nonetheless. The King of France is shocked by Lear's decision because up
until this time Lear has only praised and favoured Cordelia (". . . she, who even but now was your best object, the argument of your praise, balm
of your age . . . ").[2] Meanwhile, Gloucester has introduced his illegitimate son Edmund to Kent.
Lear announces he will live alternately with Goneril and Regan, and their husbands. He reserves to himself a retinue of one hundred knights, to
be supported by his daughters. Goneril and Regan speak privately, revealing that their declarations of love were fake, and that they view Lear as a
foolish old man.
Gloucester's bastard son Edmund resents his illegitimate status, and plots to dispose of his legitimate older brother Edgar. He tricks his father
with a forged letter, making him think that Edgar plans to usurp the estate. Kent returns from exile in disguise (calling himself Caius), and Lear
hires him as a servant. At Albany and Goneril's house, Lear and Kent quarrel with Oswald, Goneril's steward. Lear discovers that now that
Goneril has power, she no longer respects him. She orders him to reduce the number of his disorderly retinue. Enraged, Lear departs for Regan's
home. The Fool reproaches Lear with his foolishness in giving everything to Regan and Goneril, and predicts that Regan will treat him no better.
Act II[edit]
Edmund learns from Curan, a courtier, that there is likely to be war between Albany and Cornwall, and that Regan and Cornwall are to arrive at
Gloucester's house that evening. Taking advantage of the arrival of the duke and Regan, Edmund fakes an attack by Edgar, and Gloucester is
completely taken in. He disinherits Edgar and proclaims him an outlaw.
Bearing Lear's message to Regan, Kent meets Oswald again at Gloucester's home, quarrels with him again, and is put in the stocks by Regan and
her husband Cornwall. When Lear arrives, he objects to the mistreatment of his messenger, but Regan is as dismissive of her father as Goneril
was. Lear is enraged but impotent. Goneril arrives and supports Regan's argument against him. Lear yields completely to his rage. He rushes out
into a storm to rant against his ungrateful daughters, accompanied by the mocking Fool. Kent later follows to protect him. Gloucester protests
against Lear's mistreatment. With Lear's retinue of a hundred knights dissolved, the only companions he has left are his Fool and Kent.
Wandering on the heath after the storm, Edgar, in the guise of a madman named Tom o' Bedlam, meets Lear. Edgar babbles madly while Lear
denounces his daughters. Kent leads them all to shelter.
Act III[edit]

Edmund betrays Gloucester to Cornwall, Regan and Goneril. He reveals evidence that his father knows of an impending French invasion
designed to reinstate Lear to the throne; and in fact a French army has landed in Britain. Once Edmund leaves with Goneril to warn Albany about
the invasion, Gloucester is arrested, and Regan and Cornwall gouge out Gloucester's eyes. As he is doing so, a servant is overcome with rage by
what he is witnessing and attacks Cornwall, mortally wounding him. Regan kills the servant, and tells Gloucester that Edmund betrayed him; then
she turns him out to wander the heath, too.
Act IV[edit]
Edgar, in his madman's guise, meets his blinded father on the heath. Gloucester, sightless and failing to recognise Edgar's voice, begs Tom to lead
him to a cliff at Dover so that he may jump to his death. Goneril discovers that she finds Edmund more attractive than her honest husband
Albany, whom she regards as cowardly. Albany has developed a conscience — he is disgusted by the sisters' treatment of Lear and Gloucester --
and denounces his wife. Goneril sends Edmund back to Regan. After receiving news of Cornwall's death, she fears her newly widowed sister may
steal Edmund and sends him a letter through Oswald. Now alone with Lear, Kent leads him to the French army, which is commanded by
Cordelia. But Lear is half-mad and terribly embarrassed by his earlier follies. At Regan's instigation, Albany joins his forces with hers against the
French. Goneril's suspicions about Regan's motives are confirmed and returned, as Regan rightly guesses the meaning of her letter and declares to
Oswald that she is a more appropriate match for Edmund. Edgar pretends to lead Gloucester to a cliff, then changes his voice and tells Gloucester
he has miraculously survived a great fall. Lear appears, by now completely mad. He rants that the whole world is corrupt and runs off.
Oswald appears, still looking for Edmund. On Regan's orders, he tries to kill Gloucester but is killed by Edgar. In Oswald's pocket, Edgar finds
Goneril's letter, in which she encourages Edmund to kill her husband and take her as his wife. Kent and Cordelia take charge of Lear, whose
madness quickly passes. Regan, Goneril, Albany, and Edmund meet with their forces. Albany insists that they fight the French invaders but not
harm Lear or Cordelia. The two sisters lust for Edmund, who has made promises to both. He considers the dilemma and plots the deaths of
Albany, Lear, and Cordelia. Edgar gives Goneril's letter to Albany. The armies meet in battle, the British defeat the French, and Lear and
Cordelia are captured. Edmund sends Lear and Cordelia off with secret-joint orders from him (representing Regan and her forces) and Goneril
(representing the forces of her estranged husband, Albany) for the execution of Cordelia.
Act V[edit]

The victorious British leaders meet, and the recently widowed Regan now declares she will marry Edmund. But Albany exposes the intrigues of
Edmund and Goneril and proclaims Edmund a traitor. Regan falls ill, having been poisoned by Goneril, and is escorted offstage, where she dies.
Edmund defies Albany, who calls for a trial by combat. Edgar appears masked and in armour, and challenges Edmund to a duel. No one knows
who he is. Edgar wounds Edmund fatally, though he does not die immediately. Albany confronts Goneril with the letter which was intended to be
his death warrant; she flees in shame and rage. Edgar reveals himself, and reports that Gloucester died offstage from the shock and joy of learning
that Edgar is alive, after Edgar revealed himself to his father.
Offstage, Goneril, her plans thwarted, commits suicide. The dying Edmund decides, though he admits it is against his own character, to try to
save Lear and Cordelia; however, his confession comes too late. Soon after, Albany sends men to countermand Edmund's orders, Lear enters
bearing Cordelia's corpse in his arms, having survived by killing the executioner. Kent appears and Lear now recognises him. Albany urges Lear
to resume his throne, but as with Gloucester, the trials Lear has been through have finally overwhelmed him, and he dies. Albany then asks Kent
and Edgar to take charge of the throne. Kent declines, explaining that his master is calling him on a journey and he must follow. Finally, Albany
(in the Quarto version) or Edgar (in the Folio version) implies that he will now become king.
 MACBETH

Plot

Macbeth and Banquo encounter the witches for the first time

Act I
The play opens amidst thunder and lightning, and the Three Witches decide that their next meeting shall be with Macbeth. In the following scene,
a wounded sergeant reports to King Duncan of Scotland that his generals Macbeth, who is the Thane of Glamis, and Banquo have just defeated
the allied forces of Norway and Ireland, who were led by the traitorous Macdonwald, and the Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth, the King's kinsman, is
praised for his bravery and fighting prowess.
In the following scene, Macbeth and Banquo discuss the weather and their victory. As they wander onto a heath, the Three Witches enter and
greet them with prophecies. Though Banquo challenges them first, they address Macbeth, hailing him as "Thane of Glamis," "Thane of Cawdor,"
and that he shall "be King hereafter." Macbeth appears to be stunned to silence. When Banquo asks of his own fortunes, the witches respond
paradoxically, saying that he will be less than Macbeth, yet happier, less successful, yet more. He will father a line of kings though he himself
will not be one. While the two men wonder at these pronouncements, the witches vanish, and another thane, Ross, Scotland Ross, arrives and
informs Macbeth of his newly bestowed title: Thane of Cawdor. The first prophecy is thus fulfilled, and Macbeth, previously sceptical,
immediately begins to harbour ambitions of becoming king.
King Duncan welcomes and praises Macbeth and Banquo, and declares that he will spend the night at Macbeth's castle at Inverness; he also
names his son Malcolm as his heir. Macbeth sends a message ahead to his wife, Lady Macbeth, telling her about the witches' prophecies. Lady
Macbeth suffers none of her husband's uncertainty and wishes him to murder Duncan in order to obtain kingship. When Macbeth arrives at
Inverness, she overrides all of her husband's objections by challenging his manhood and successfully persuades him to kill the king that very
night. He and Lady Macbeth plan to get Duncan's two chamberlains drunk so that they will black out; the next morning they will blame the
chamberlains for the murder. They will be defenceless as they will remember nothing.
Act II
While Duncan is asleep, Macbeth stabs him, despite his doubts and a number of supernatural portents, including a hallucination of a bloody
dagger. He is so shaken that Lady Macbeth has to take charge. In accordance with her plan, she frames Duncan's sleeping servants for the murder
by placing bloody daggers on them. Early the next morning, Lennox, a Scottish nobleman, and Macduff, the loyal Thane of Fife, arrive. A porter
opens the gate and Macbeth leads them to the king's chamber, where Macduff discovers Duncan's body. Macbeth murders the guards to prevent
them from professing their innocence, but claims he did so in a fit of anger over their misdeeds. Duncan's sons Malcolm and Donalbain flee to
England and Ireland, respectively, fearing that whoever killed Duncan desires their demise as well. The rightful heirs' flight makes them suspects
and Macbeth assumes the throne as the new King of Scotland as a kinsman of the dead king. Banquo reveals this to the audience, and while
sceptical of the new King Macbeth, he remembers the witches' prophecy about how his own descendants would inherit the throne; this makes him
suspicious of Macbeth.
Act III
Despite his success, Macbeth, also aware of this part of the prophecy, remains uneasy. Macbeth invites Banquo to a royal banquet, where he
discovers that Banquo and his young son, Fleance, will be riding out that night. Fearing Banquo's suspicions, Macbeth arranges to have him
murdered, by hiring two men to kill them, later sending a Third Murderer. The assassins succeed in killing Banquo, but Fleance escapes. Macbeth
becomes furious: he fears that his power remains insecure as long as an heir of Banquo remains alive.
At a banquet, Macbeth invites his lords and Lady Macbeth to a night of drinking and merriment. Banquo's ghost enters and sits in Macbeth's
place. Macbeth raves fearfully, startling his guests, as the ghost is only visible to him. The others panic at the sight of Macbeth raging at an empty
chair, until a desperate Lady Macbeth tells them that her husband is merely afflicted with a familiar and harmless malady. The ghost departs and
returns once more, causing the same riotous anger and fear in Macbeth. This time, Lady Macbeth tells the lords to leave, and they do so.

Act IV
Macbeth, disturbed, visits the three witches once more and asks them to reveal the truth of their prophecies to him. To answer his questions, they
summon horrible apparitions, each of which offers predictions and further prophecies to put Macbeth's fears at rest. First, they conjure an
armoured head, which tells him to beware of Macduff (IV.i.72). Second, a bloody child tells him that no one born of a woman shall be able to
harm him. Thirdly, a crowned child holding a tree states that Macbeth will be safe until Great Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Hill. Macbeth is
relieved and feels secure because he knows that all men are born of women and forests cannot move. Macbeth also asks whether Banquo's sons
will ever reign in Scotland: the witches conjure a procession of eight crowned kings, all similar in appearance to Banquo, and the last carrying a
mirror that reflects even more kings. Macbeth realises that these are all Banquo's descendants having acquired kingship in numerous countries.
After the witches perform a mad dance and leave, Lennox enters and tells Macbeth that Macduff has fled to England. Macbeth orders Macduff's
castle be seized, and, most cruelly, sends murderers to slaughter Macduff, as well as Macduff's wife and children. Although Macduff is no longer
in the castle, everyone in Macduff's castle is put to death, including Lady Macduff and their young son.
Act V
Meanwhile, Lady Macbeth becomes racked with guilt from the crimes she and her husband have committed. At night, in the king's palace at
Dunsinane, a doctor and a gentlewoman discuss Lady Macbeth's strange habit of sleepwalking. Suddenly, Lady Macbeth enters in a trance with a
candle in her hand. Bemoaning the murders of Duncan, Lady Macduff, and Banquo, she tries to wash off imaginary bloodstains from her hands,
all the while speaking of the terrible things she knows she pressed her husband to do. She leaves, and the doctor and gentlewoman marvel at her
descent into madness. Her belief that nothing can wash away the blood on her hands is an ironic reversal of her earlier claim to Macbeth that "[a]
little water clears us of this deed" (II.ii.66).
In England, Macduff is informed by Ross that his "castle is surprised; wife and babes / Savagely slaughter'd" (IV.iii.204–05). When this news of
his family's execution reaches him, Macduff is stricken with grief and vows revenge. Prince Malcolm, Duncan's son, has succeeded in raising an
army in England, and Macduff joins him as he rides to Scotland to challenge Macbeth's forces. The invasion has the support of the Scottish
nobles, who are appalled and frightened by Macbeth's tyrannical and murderous behaviour. Malcolm leads an army, along with Macduff and
Englishmen Siward (the Elder), the Earl of Northumberland, against Dunsinane Castle. While encamped in Birnam Wood, the soldiers are
ordered to cut down and carry tree limbs to camouflage their numbers.
Before Macbeth's opponents arrive, he receives news that Lady Macbeth has killed herself, causing him to sink into a deep and pessimistic
despair and deliver his "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow" soliloquy (V.v.17–28). Though he reflects on the brevity and meaninglessness
of life, he nevertheless awaits the English and fortifies Dunsinane. He is certain that the witches' prophecies guarantee his invincibility, but is
struck with fear when he learns that the English army is advancing on Dunsinane shielded with boughs cut from Birnam Wood, in apparent
fulfillment of one of the prophecies.
A battle culminates in Macduff's confrontation with Macbeth, who kills Young Siward in combat. The English forces overwhelm his army and
castle. Macbeth boasts that he has no reason to fear Macduff, for he cannot be killed by any man born of woman. Macduff declares that he was
"from his mother's womb / Untimely ripp'd" (V.8.15–16), (i.e., born by Caesarean section) and is not "of woman born" (an example of a literary
quibble), fulfilling the second prophecy. Macbeth realises too late that he has misinterpreted the witches' words. Though he realises that he is
doomed, he continues to fight. Macduff kills and beheads him, thus fulfilling the remaining prophecy.
Macduff carries Macbeth's head onstage and Malcolm discusses how order has been restored. His last reference to Lady Macbeth, however,
reveals "'tis thought, by self and violent hands / Took off her life" (V.ix.71–72), but the method of her suicide is undisclosed. Malcolm, now the
King of Scotland, declares his benevolent intentions for the country and invites all to see him crowned at Scone.
Although Malcolm, and not Fleance, is placed on the throne, the witches' prophecy concerning Banquo ("Thou shalt get kings") was known to the
audience of Shakespeare's time to be true: James VI of Scotland (later also James I of England) was supposedly a descendant of Banquo.[4]
 OTHELLO

Synopsis[edit]
Act I[edit]
Roderigo, a wealthy and dissolute gentleman, complains to his friend Iago, an ensign, that Iago has not told him about the secret marriage
between Desdemona, the daughter of a senator named Brabantio, and Othello, a Moorish general in the Venetian army. Roderigo is upset because
he loves Desdemona and had asked her father for her hand in marriage.
Iago hates Othello for promoting a younger man named Cassio above him, whom Iago considers less capable a soldier than himself, and tells
Roderigo that he plans to use Othello for his own advantage. Iago convinces Roderigo to wake Brabantio and tell him about his
daughter's elopement. Meanwhile, Iago sneaks away to find Othello and warns him that Brabantio is coming for him.
Brabantio, provoked by Roderigo, is enraged and will not rest until he has beheaded Othello, but he finds Othello's residence full of the Duke of
Venice's guards, who prevent violence. News has arrived in Venice that the Turks are going to attack Cyprus, and Othello is therefore summoned
to advise the senators. Brabantio has no option but to accompany Othello to the Duke's residence, where he accuses Othello of seducing
Desdemona by witchcraft.
Othello defends himself before the Duke of Venice, Brabantio's kinsmen Lodovico and Gratiano, and various senators. Othello explains that
Desdemona became enamoured of him for the sad and compelling stories he told of his life before Venice, not because of any witchcraft. The
senate is satisfied, once Desdemona confirms that she loves Othello, but Brabantio leaves saying that Desdemona will betray Othello: "Look to
her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:/She has deceived her father, and may thee," (Act I, Sc 3). Iago, still in the room, takes note of Brabantio's
remark. By order of the Duke, Othello leaves Venice to command the Venetian armies against invading Turks on the island of Cyprus,
accompanied by his new wife, his new lieutenant Cassio, his ensign Iago, and Iago's wife, Emilia, as Desdemona's attendant.
Act II[edit]
The party arrives in Cyprus to find that a storm has destroyed the Turkish fleet. Othello orders a general celebration and leaves to consummate his
marriage with Desdemona. In his absence, Iago gets Cassio drunk, and then persuades Roderigo to draw Cassio into a fight. Montano tries to
calm an angry and drunk Cassio down, but end up fighting one another. Montano is injured in the fight. Othello reenters and questions the men as
to what happened. Othello blames Cassio for the disturbance and strips him of his rank. Cassio is distraught. Iago persuades Cassio to importune
Desdemona to convince her husband to reinstate Cassio.
Act III[edit]
Iago now persuades Othello to be suspicious of Cassio and Desdemona. When Desdemona drops a handkerchief (the first gift given to her by
Othello), Emilia finds it, and gives it to her husband Iago, at his request, unaware of what he plans to do with it. Othello reenters and vows with
Iago for the death of Desdemona and Cassio, after which he makes Iago his lieutenant. Act III, scene iii is considered to be the turning point of
the play as it is the scene in which Iago successfully sows the seeds of doubt in Othello's mind, inevitably sealing Othello's fate.
Act IV[edit]
Iago plants the handkerchief in Cassio's lodgings, then tells Othello to watch Cassio's reactions while Iago questions him. Iago goads Cassio on to
talk about his affair with Bianca, a local courtesan, but whispers her name so quietly that Othello believes the two men are talking about
Desdemona. Later, Bianca accuses Cassio of giving her a second-hand gift which he had received from another lover. Othello sees this, and Iago
convinces him that Cassio received the handkerchief from Desdemona.
Enraged and hurt, Othello resolves to kill his wife and told Iago to kill Cassio. Othello proceeds to make Desdemona's life miserable, hitting her
in front of visiting Venetian nobles. Meanwhile, Roderigo complains that he has received no results from Iago in return for his money and efforts
to win Desdemona, but Iago convinces him to kill Cassio.
Act V[edit]

Roderigo, having been manipulated by Iago, attacks Cassio in the street after Cassio leaves Bianca's lodgings. Cassio wounds Roderigo. During
the scuffle, Iago comes from behind Cassio and badly cuts his leg. In the darkness, Iago manages to hide his identity, and when Lodovico and
Gratiano hear Cassio's cries for help, Iago joins them. When Cassio identifies Roderigo as one of his attackers, Iago secretly stabs Roderigo to
stop him revealing the plot. Iago then accuses Bianca of the failed conspiracy to kill Cassio.
Othello confronts Desdemona, and then strangles her in their bed. When Emilia arrives, Desdemona defends her husband before dying, and
Othello accuses Desdemona of adultery. Emilia calls for help. The former governor Montano arrives, with Gratiano and Iago. When Othello
mentions the handkerchief as proof, Emilia realizes what her husband Iago has done, and she exposes him, whereupon he kills her. Othello,
belatedly realising Desdemona's innocence, stabs Iago but not fatally, saying that Iago is a devil, and he would rather have him live the rest of his
life in pain.
Iago refuses to explain his motives, vowing to remain silent from that moment on. Lodovico apprehends both Iago and Othello for the murders of
Roderigo, Emilia, and Desdemona, but Othello commits suicide. Lodovico appoints Cassio Othello's successor and exhorts Cassio to punish Iago
justly. He then denounces Iago for his actions and leaves to tell the others of what has transgressed.
 MERCHANT OF VENICE

Plot summary[edit]

Bassanio, a young Venetian of noble rank, wishes to woo the beautiful and wealthy heiress Portia of Belmont. Having squandered his estate, he
needs 3,000 ducats to subsidise his expenditures as a suitor. Bassanio approaches his friend Antonio, a wealthy merchant of Venice who has
previously and repeatedly bailed him out. Antonio agrees, but since he is cash-poor – his ships and merchandise are busy at sea to Tripolis, the
Indies, Mexico and England – he promises to cover a bond if Bassanio can find a lender, so Bassanio turns to the Jewish moneylender Shylock
and names Antonio as the loan's guarantor.
Antonio has already antagonized Shylock through his outspoken antisemitism, and because Antonio's habit of lending money without interest
forces Shylock to charge lower rates. Shylock is at first reluctant to grant the loan, citing abuse he has suffered at Antonio's hand. He finally
agrees to lend the sum to Bassanio without interest upon one condition: if Antonio is unable to repay it at the specified date, Shylock may take
a pound of Antonio's flesh. Bassanio does not want Antonio to accept such a risky condition; Antonio is surprised by what he sees as the
moneylender's generosity (no "usance" – interest – is asked for), and he signs the contract. With money at hand, Bassanio leaves for Belmont with
his friend Gratiano, who has asked to accompany him. Gratiano is a likeable young man, but is often flippant, overly talkative, and tactless.
Bassanio warns his companion to exercise self-control, and the two leave for Belmont.
Meanwhile, in Belmont, Portia is awash with suitors. Her father left a will stipulating each of her suitors must choose correctly from one of three
caskets – one each of gold, silver and lead. If he picks the right casket, he gets Portia. The first suitor, the Prince of Morocco, chooses the gold
casket, interpreting its slogan, "Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire", as referring to Portia. The second suitor, the conceited
Prince of Arragon, chooses the silver casket, which proclaims, "Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves", as he believes he is full of
merit. Both suitors leave empty-handed, having rejected the lead casket because of the baseness of its material and the uninviting nature of its
slogan, "Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath". The last suitor is Bassanio, whom Portia wishes to succeed, having met him before.
As Bassanio ponders his choice, members of Portia's household sing a song which says that "fancy" (not true love) is "engend'red in the eyes, /
With gazing fed";[3] Bassanio chooses the lead casket and wins Portia's hand.

At Venice, Antonio's ships are reported lost at sea so the merchant cannot repay the bond. Shylock has become more determined to exact revenge
from Christians because his daughter Jessica eloped with the Christian Lorenzo and converted. She took a substantial amount of Shylock's wealth
with her, as well as a turquoise ring which Shylock had been given by his late wife, Leah. Shylock has Antonio brought before court.
At Belmont, Bassanio receives a letter telling him that Antonio has been unable to repay the loan from Shylock. Portia and Bassanio marry, as do
Gratiano and Portia's handmaid Nerissa. Bassanio and Gratiano leave for Venice, with money from Portia, to save Antonio's life by offering the
money to Shylock. Unknown to Bassanio and Gratiano, Portia sent her servant, Balthazar, to seek the counsel of Portia's cousin, Bellario, a
lawyer, at Padua.
The climax of the play takes place in the court of the Duke of Venice. Shylock refuses Bassanio's offer of 6,000 ducats, twice the amount of the
loan. He demands his pound of flesh from Antonio. The Duke, wishing to save Antonio but unable to nullify a contract, refers the case to a
visitor. He identifies himself as Balthazar, a young male "doctor of the law", bearing a letter of recommendation to the Duke from the learned
lawyer Bellario. The doctor is Portia in disguise, and the law clerk who accompanies her is Nerissa, also disguised as a man. As Balthazar, Portia
repeatedly asks Shylock to show mercy in a famous speech, advising him that mercy "is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes"
(IV, i, 185). However, Shylock adamantly refuses any compensations and insists on the pound of flesh.
As the court grants Shylock his bond and Antonio prepares for Shylock's knife, Portia deftly appropriates Shylock's argument for "specific
performance". She says that the contract allows Shylock only to remove the flesh, not the "blood", of Antonio (see quibble). Thus, if Shylock
were to shed any drop of Antonio's blood, his "lands and goods" would be forfeited under Venetian laws. She tells him that he must cut precisely
one pound of flesh, no more, no less; she advises him that "if the scale do turn, But in the estimation of a hair, Thou diest and all thy goods are
confiscate."
Defeated, Shylock concedes to accepting Bassanio's offer of money for the defaulted bond, first his offer to pay "the bond thrice", which Portia
rebuffs, telling him to take his bond, and then merely the principal, which Portia also prevents him from doing on the ground that he has already
refused it "in the open court". She cites a law under which Shylock, as a Jew and therefore an "alien", having attempted to take the life of a
citizen, has forfeited his property, half to the government and half to Antonio, leaving his life at the mercy of the Duke. The Duke pardons
Shylock's life. Antonio asks for his share "in use" until Shylock's death, when the principal will be given to Lorenzo and Jessica. At Antonio's
request, the Duke grants remission of the state's half of forfeiture, but on the condition that Shylock convert to Christianity and bequeath his
entire estate to Lorenzo and Jessica (IV,i).
Bassanio does not recognise his disguised wife, but offers to give a present to the supposed lawyer. First she declines, but after he insists, Portia
requests his ring and Antonio's gloves. Antonio parts with his gloves without a second thought, but Bassanio gives the ring only after much
persuasion from Antonio, as earlier in the play he promised his wife never to lose, sell or give it. Nerissa, as the lawyer's clerk, succeeds in
likewise retrieving her ring from Gratiano, who does not see through her disguise.
At Belmont, Portia and Nerissa taunt and pretend to accuse their husbands before revealing they were really the lawyer and his clerk in disguise
(V). After all the other characters make amends, Antonio learns from Portia that three of his ships were not stranded and have returned safely
after all.

ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Synopsis[edit]
The play opens in Rousillon, then a Catalan province of Spain (now in France), where young Count Bertram bids farewell to his mother the
Countess and Helena, as he leaves for the court of Paris (with old Lord Lafew) at the French King's order. Bertram's father has recently died and
Bertram is to be the King's ward and attendant. Helena, a young minor noblewoman and ward of the Countess, whose father (a gifted doctor) has
also recently died, laments her unrequitable love for (or infatuation with) Bertram, and losing him to Paris, which weighs on her though it seems
to others that she mourns her father. Parolles, a cowardly military man and parasite on Bertram, trades wits with Helena, as they liken amorous
love and the loss of virginity to military endeavours. Helena nearly admits her love of Bertram to Parolles before he leaves for Paris with Bertram
and Lafew. Alone again, Helena convinces herself to strive for Bertram despite the odds, mentioning the King's illness alongside her decision.
In Paris, the King and noble lords discuss the Tuscan wars, where French nobles join on either side for their own glorification. Bertram, Parolles
and Lafew arrive, and the King praises Bertram's father as more truly honorable, humble and egalitarian than the lords of his day or Bertram's. He
welcomes Bertram as he would his own son.

In Rousillon, the Clown asks permission to marry which he and the Countess debate. The Steward explains to the Countess that he has overheard
Helena lamenting her love for Bertram despite their social difference. The Countess, with sympathy and seeing Helena as her own daughter,
coaxes a confession out of her. Helena admits her love, but (in decorum or strategy) reserves her previously realized ambition. They agree that
Helena should travel to Paris to attempt to cure the King, even wagering her life for the opportunity.
In Paris, the King advises the Lords leaving for war, urging them to seek honor with amorous terms and warning them of the Italian women in
warlike terms. Bertram, too young to go to war and in Paris to serve the King, is encouraged by Parolles and the Lords to steal away to the
Tuscan war. He swears to the Lords that he will, but after they leave he admits (or reconsiders) to Parolles his intention to stay at the King's side.
Lafew asks the King to speak with Helena who offers to cure his fatal disease with her father's most potent and safeguarded recipe. The King
acknowledges her late father's renown as a doctor, but refuses to entertain false hope. Through a series of arguments – showing her confidence,
appealing to his irrational or mystical side, and underlining her father's reputation – she convinces the King to let heaven work through her. She
accepts the King's warning that she will wager her life on the outcome, but to even the scales, she asks that she may choose her husband from the
lords at court. The King agrees.
In Rousillon, the Countess sends the Clown to the Paris court with a letter for Helena, but not before the Clown teases the Countess with his
impersonation of the courtiers as haughty and equivocating.
Back in Paris, Lafew tries to speak on the powers of heaven in a world of scientists, but Parolles interrupts him at every turn, trying to one-up him
and claim Lafew's thoughts as his own. They bring the conversation to the King's miraculous recovery and the woman who cured him. The King
and Helena enter, and the men are surprised to learn that the woman is Helena. (Lafew may be in disbelief, as he introduced Helena to the King
for this purpose.) The King summons the lords and he and Helena make known their arrangement that she now choose a husband. Helena briefly
questions a few of the lords, the first two of which may give perfunctory consent in front of the King, while haughtily equivocating like the
Clown demonstrated previously. Helena chooses Bertram by way of giving herself to him, and the King seals her wish. Bertram balks, first
asking the King to let his own eyes choose who he marries, then scorning her poverty and lack of (good) title.
The King counters Bertram's protests with offers money and title, and praises Helena variously to Bertram without his objection, but Bertram
refuses again despite the King's practical beatitudes on virtue over status. The King, angered, threatens Bertram with ruin and his wrath. Bertram
consents in word and the King will have them married without delay. Lafew mentions to Parolles' duty to Bertrand, and Bertram's recantation,
which provoke a pique of haughty contempt from Parolles in which he disdains and threatens the old Lord. Lafew returns the animosity, and
leaves and returns to announce Bertram married, and to further insult Parolles on his way through.
Bertram bemoans his fate to Parolles and plans his escape to the Tuscan wars, while sending Helena back home.
The Clown, having arrived, spars verbally with Parolles on the matter of his lack of title, duty and worth. Parolles delivers from Bertram his
request that Helena take her leave of the King while Bertram attends “other business”.
Lafew tries in vain to convince Bertram of Parolles' empty viciousness. Bertram won't hear of it, and Lafew asks Bertram to mend relations
between him and Parolles, likely sarcastically, since as soon as Parolles enters, Lafew subtly works toward a full indictment of Parolles as
nothing but a shell of a man with a good suit on. Bertram tells Helena that he has urgent business to attend to as their surprise wedding has left
him with unsettled matters, and that he will arrive at home in two days. She finds the courage to ask him for a farewell kiss, which he refuses.
In Florence, the local Duke and the French Lords discuss the King of France's abstention from the Tuscan war, and the Duke welcomes the
participation of the many French lords who have come to seek honour and glory.
In Rousillon, the Clown informs the Countess of the marriage of Bertram and Helena, as well as Bertram's melancholy, adding that Clown has
lost interest in the woman he wanted to marry after seeing the Parisian court's version of her. The Countess reads Bertram's letter, disapproving of
his flight to Florence, and the Clown rattles off equivoques on cowardice in war and marriage.
Helena and the Lords returned from Florence enter to elaborate on Bertram's flight. Helena, dejected, reads Bertram's sardonic letter claiming that
she'll have him as a husband once she gets his family ring and has his child. The Countess disavows him and claims Helena as her own daughter,
giving the Lords this message of disapproval to take to Bertram. Helena, alone and hoping to give Bertram cause to return from the dangers of
war, plans to disappear from Rousillon in the night.
In Florence, the Duke makes Bertram his cavalry officer.
In Rousillon, the Countess reads Helena's farewell letter, declaring her pilgrimage to Saint Jaques (putatively in Spain, or at least not in Florence
or Rousillon). The Countess sends word of this to Bertram, hoping he'll return from Florence now that Helena is away.
In Florence, a Widow, her daughter Diana, Mariana and other women speak of the soldiers and watch or wait for them from afar. They discuss
Bertram's success in war and his and Parolles' seduction of the local virgins. Helena arrives disguised as a pilgrim, who are hosted in Florence at
the widow's house. She hears of Bertram's martial fame, his history, and his most recent attempts to seduce Diana, with more equivoques between
war and the seduction of virgins. Helena befriends the women.
The Lords warn Bertram of Parolles' dishonorable behavior, staking their reputations with Bertram on its veracity. Bertram, now more receptive
to the possibility, agrees with the Lords' scheme to send Parolles off to recover his drum, lost in the day's battle, so that on his return, they can
capture him disguised as the enemy. Parolles enters to take the bait, and affecting pride, swears to recover it. Bertram takes a Lord to show him
Diana.
Helena has identified herself to the Widow, a fallen estate noble, and enlisted her help for coin in order to get Bertram's family ring and switch
Diana for Helena in a bed trick.
A French Lord and his soldiers lie in wait for Parolles, who bides his time and wonders how long of a story and how many self-inflicted injuries
will satisfy the others when he doesn't return with a drum. The disguised French ambush him, and he immediately panics and offers information
on the Florentine cause.
At the Widow's house, Bertram attempts to woo Diana who questions his motives and sincerity. Once Bertram attests that he is eternally sincere,
and guileless, Diana plies him for the ring, offering to trade it for a ring (from Helena) and her virginity. Bertram accepts.
The Lords discuss Bertram's letter from his mother expressing her disapproval, how it negatively affects him, his caddish behavior, and the
recently received rumor of Helena's death at Saint Jaques. Bertram enters, having arranged his affairs for departure no sooner than having heard
of Helena's death. The Lords, hoping he see the error of his ways through Parolles' unmasking, take him to the blindfolded Parolles, who readily
offers martial information on Florence to save himself with hardly a provocation, as before. He is equally forthwith in besmirching Bertram's
character to the "enemy" on discovery of a note to Diana, advising her to leech money from Bertram as he tries to seduce her since he will betray
her afterward (ostensibly written to her in an undelivered compact to bilk Bertram of gold). They reveal themselves and shame Parolles into near-
silence. Alone and humbled, he concludes to follow them back to France.

Helena, the Widow and Diana discuss their success (the seduction having happened offstage between IV.ii. and IV.iii.) and Helena muses on the
love-hate of Bertram, (or tricked-seducers of his kind, or men in general) during the sexual act. She asks the Widow and Diana to accompany her
to the King in order to complete her winning or cornering of Bertram.
In Rousillon, the Countess, Lafew and the Clown mourn the loss of Helena. Lafew has proposed to the King that Bertram marry his daughter,
which meets with the Countess' approval.
In Marseilles, Helena, the Widow and Diana send a Gentleman ahead of them to Rossillon with a letter to the King concerning Bertram.
In Rousillon, Parolles, now a reeking beggar, begs for help from Lafew, who allows him in for supper.
The King, Lafew and the Countess mourn the loss of Helena and decide to forgive Bertram's foolish young pride. Lafew and Bertram have
arranged his marriage to Lafew's daughter, and the King consents. Bertram enters, asking forgiveness, and expanding on his love for Lafew's
daughter, whom he loved at first sight. This love provoked his disdain for Helena, whom he belatedly appreciates.
Lafew, whose estate will pass to Bertram in the marriage, asks for a ring from Bertram to give to his daughter. Bertram gives him the ring from
Diana (which came from Helena). The King, Lafew and the Countess recognize it as the ring that the King gave to Helena, which Bertram denies.
The King has him seized, suspecting foul play (the King knows that she would only surrender it to Bertram in their bed, and Bertram believes that
this is an impossibility). The Gentleman arrives, giving the letter from Diana and Helena to the King, in which it is claimed that Bertram pledged
to marry Diana as soon as Helena has died. Lafew rescinds his daughter's hand.
Diana and the Widow enter and Bertram agrees he knows them, but not that he seduced her or promised her marriage, claiming she is a
Florentine harlot. Diana shows Bertram's family ring, and claims Parolles as witness to Bertram's efforts to woo her. Bertram changes his story,
claiming to have foolishly given her the ring as over-payment for her harlotry. Diana further claims Helena's ring, as recognized by the court, as
the one she gave Bertram in bed. With the confusion reaching a peak, Parolles, once pressed, admits that Bertram seduced and bedded her, and
Diana equivocates over how she got Helena's ring. The King order her arrest as well, and she then summons the Widow and Helena.
After the court's shock, Helena explains the rings, and that she has fulfilled the conditions of Bertram's sardonic challenge. Bertram swears to
love her if she has honestly done all of this and can explain it. Helena pledges honesty, or righteous divorce for Bertram. Lafew accepts Parolles
as a servant. The King offers Diana a dowry and her choice of husband.
The play ends as the actor playing the King steps forward in epilogue, declaring that all is well if Helena and Bertram speak truthfully, and asks
for the audience's approval.

Coriolanus: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Tragedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I

The first act opens in a street in Rome where mutinous citizens, armed with staves and clubs, talk excitedly, being determined to rebel rather than
starve. They are loudly yelling that Marcius, a descendant of their ancient kings, is the chief foe of the people, that the surplus wasted by the
patricians would maintain them all in comfort. Besides, they resent the fact that one class of Roman society revels in luxury while the other is
starving. They, therefore, declare that Marcius, although a brave soldier, protects only the rich and cares naught for the poor, and are just
proposing to storm the Capitol when checked by the arrival of Menenius, whom, knowing he is ever ready to befriend them, they hail with joy.

After a brief parley, Menenius informs them that the patricians have always taken care of them, and that the dearth of w T hich they complain is
due to the gods alone. Seeing the mob incredulous, he tries to explain the situation by the fable of the limbs and the stomach, w r hich latter was
considered a lazy glutton, for whom the poor limbs were obliged to work. During this narration, there are frequent interruptions, but Menenius
finally arouses mirth in his hearers by addressing one of the noisiest among them as the 'Great Toe' of the body politic. Then he demonstrates how
the limbs were at fault, as the stomach was working to make blood to nourish the different parts of the body, and adds that, while the senators of
Rome may be likened to the stomach, the common people, like the mutinous limbs, merely injure themselves by rebelling.

He has almost persuaded the plebeians to obey when Marcius joins him, roughly reproving the rioters for insubordination. To his aggressive
haughtiness the people reply by ironical remarks, whereupon he shows how little he cares for their good opinion, knowing they always bow down
before those least deserving of honour. When he again demands the cause of their outcries, they clamour for corn at low rates, thus giving him a
good opportunity to tell them that if they would onjy use their swords to fight, they could quickly win all they need! But he grudgingly adds that
the senate has just appointed tribunes to watch over their interests, a concession which enrages him.

While Menenius is marvelling at it, a messenger breathlessly calls for Marcius, announcing that the Volscians being under arms, his services are
required to defend his country. A moment later a deputation of consuls, senators, and tribunes reports an attack imminent, whereupon Marcius
exclaims the Volscians are well led by Aufidius, a lion he is 'proud to hunt,' and whom he has frequently met in battle before. Knowing this, the
senators bid him accompany their consuls to war, a charge Marcius gladly accepts, because it will give him another chance to distinguish himself
in the face of the foe. His enthusiasm causes Lartius, the second consul, to boast that although wounded, he will enter battle leaning on his crutch!

Marcius is about to accompany the deputation back to the Capitol to take measures for Rome's safety, when an attempt is made to disperse the
mob. Because the plebeians hesitate to obey, Marcius ironically invites them to come with him and fight the Volscians, who possess rich
granaries, and thus secure all the food they need. The rabble, afraid to fight, melts away, and after a brief time, two of the tribunes remain alone
on the scene, to comment upon the taunts and jibes Marcius flung at the people, adding that the coming campaign will only increase his pride.
Still, they do not doubt he will, by his bravery, outshine both consuls and reap all the honours, ere they betake themselves to the senate.

The next scene occurs in the senate at Corioli, where all have assembled to receive Aufidius, who announces that although there are no tidings
from Rome, he expects a speedy attack. Then he reads aloud a letter, wherein is stated both Roman consuls and Marcius, his old enemy, are
coming to meet him. Lastly, he reproaches the senators for not allowing him to strike the first blow, as in his opinion they should have secured a
number of towns before the Romans were afoot. Knowing Aufidius' talents as general, the senators implore him to act as he deems best, leaving
them meantime to guard the city. This decision pleases the general, who vows should he and Marcius meet, they will strike 'till one can do no
more,' ere he takes his leave, accompanied by the good wishes of all the people. We are now transferred to Rome, where, in Marcius' house, we
behold his mother Volumnia, and wife, Virgilia, sewing. Although the wife sighs because her husband has been summoned to war, the mother
exults, for he has always returned victorious; she, therefore, dwells upon his triumphs from early boyhood, and answers proudly when Virgilia
suggests that instead of conquering he might have been slain. Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of a visitor, who is shown in while
Virgilia is still timorously praying her husband may be protected from Aufidius' blows. This guest, Lady Valeria, after greeting both ladies,
enquires for Marcius' son, who, although but a child, bids fair to rival his father in bravery and activity. After a while, however, Volumnia and the
caller decide to visit one of their friends, but Virgilia prefers to linger at home, anxiously thinking of her husband, who is besieging Corioli.

We are now granted a glimpse of the siege of this town, before which Marcius and Lartius are making a wager on the issue of the day. Then they
summon the Corioli senators, who appear aloft, proclaiming that although Aufidius is not within their walls, they hear his drums summoning the
young men to drive away the foe. A moment later a Volscian host issues from the town, whereupon Marcius bids his men make a brave stand,
promising them victory provided they do their part. In spite of his eloquence, the Romans are driven back to their trenches, Marcius swearing
hotly at them to turn and fight or incur his lasting wrath. By his rough eloquence he finally encourages them to make a new attempt, which proves
so successful that the Volscians flee, Marcius pursuing them to their very gates, which he urges his men to enter boldly. But, at the critical
moment, the soldiers hang back, and Marcius rushes alone into Corioli, whose gates slam between him and his forces!

The Romans deem him dead, and Lartius, joining them and hearing Marcius entered the city alone, loudly mourns such a jewel should be lost to
his native land. While the Romans are still bewailing his loss, Marcius suddenly reappears, bleeding but alive, and seeing him beset with foes,
Lartius flies to his rescue. This time, the Roman force, fighting bravely, penetrates into Corioli, where it soon begins plundering. While the rest
are thus occupied, Marcius and Lartius scornfully watch them, until, noticing how freely his companion bleeds, Lartius implores him to have his
wounds dressed. The hero, however, scorns to do anything of the sort, vowing he will appear before Aufidius in this bloody guise, and, leaving
Lartius to guard Corioli, he hastens off to help the other consul.

In the next scene we behold the camp of Consul Cominius, who bids his men rest after fighting, briefly stating that although forced to retreat, he
intends soon to charge again, and will sacrifice to the gods if successful. A breathless messenger now informs him how the citizens of Corioli
effected a sortie, driving back the Romans to their trenches; but, as this happened an hour ago by his own showing, Cominius fancies had a
victory since been won, tidings of it would have reached him ere this. The messenger, however, replies no such news could come, as he himself
was obliged to take a roundabout way to escape the Volscian spies.

While they are still discussing the probabilities, bloodstained Marcius appears, breathlessly enquiring whether he has come too late? On hearing
from Cominius that the fight is not yet finished, Marcius rejoices, and when asked how Lartius is thriving, reports he is holding Corioli,
condemning some of its citizens to death, and the others to exile or ransom. When asked what gave rise to the report his troops were beaten,
Marcius explains how the common file did fall back at first, but how he prevailed in the end, as he will relate at some fitting moment. Meantime,
he is eager to learn where the foe is situated, and hearing Aufidius still lingers in the neighbourhood, craves permission to challenge him, vowing
he will win if allowed to do so.

Although Cominius suggests it might be better first to attend to his wounds, Marcius considers them mere trifles, and eagerly calls those who love
their country to follow him and defend it. Thereupon a number of volunteers brandish their swords and catch him up in their arms, vowing he
shall lead them against Aufidius, with whom they are anxious to try issues again. Having thus worked them up to the right pitch of enthusiasm,
Marcius leads his men off, promising the rest that all shall share in the booty.

We again behold the gates of Corioli, where Lartius, having posted guards, comes forth with drums and trumpets to rejoin his fellow-consul,
bidding his lieutenant meantime hold the town and close the gates behind him. The battle-field between the Roman and Volscian camps next
appears, where trumpets are blowing and drums are beating, as Marcius and Aufidius enter from opposite sides of the stage. Such is their
reciprocal hatred that they hurl defiance at one another ere they engage in single combat, their troops meanwhile rushing madly to and fro.

In the next scene the recall brings Marcius back to the Roman camp, his arm tied in a sling, only to be told by the admiring Cominius that were
some one to relate to him his feats of that day, he would never believe them! Although pleased with such praise, Marcius seems embarrassed
when the general adds he will relate his prowess to the senate, so the patricians can applaud him, the ladies shudder at his dangers, and the
plebeians, who have hitherto hated him, thank their gods that Rome possesses such a champion.

It is just as Cominius finishes his laudatory speech that Lartius returns, declaring he was merely an auxiliary to Marcius, who vows their praise
embarrasses him as much as that of his mother when she extols him to his face. Good-naturedly retorting his modesty w r ill be spared as much as
possible, Cominius, nevertheless, adjures Marcius to bear his honours as gracefully as possible, remarks which make little impression upon the
hero, who growls his wounds are smarting. Besides, he haughtily declines the proffered tenth of the booty, stating he craves no pay for what he
has done, but will be content to share as usual with the rest. While the trumpets blow and cheers resound for Marcius, he fervently hopes his
companions' voices will never be raised against him, and, vowing he cannot make a speech, begs permission to retire to dress his wounds.

Before allowing him to depart, Cominius publicly crowns him with an oaken garland, gives him his choicest steed, and hails him as 'Coriolanus,'
since it is to his efforts the capture of Corioli is due. Although the new name is greeted with renewed demonstrations of joy, Coriolanus, still
refusing to make a speech, vows he will have to go and wash his face so people can see his blushes. Then, while Cominius escorts him to his tent,
Lartius hastens back to Corioli, after sending word to Rome of their victory. It is just as they are leaving the scene that Coriolanus remembers
how an old prisoner implored his aid, and intercedes in his behalf, although he is too faint and weary to recall the man's name.
The curtain next rises on the Volscian camp, whither Aufidius returns announcing the loss of Corioli, and exclaiming he wishes he were a
Roman, for the conquered cannot expect good treatment. He next avers that, although he has been beaten five times already by Marcius, he will
conquer or die should they ever meet again. When his men exclaim that Marcius is a devil, he vows he is the boldest man he ever met, adding he
hates him so bitterly that he would fain wash his 'fierce hand in's heart.' Then he bids the bystanders find out which Volscians are to be hostages,
and promises to await their report in a neighbouring grove.

Act II

The second act opens on the public square in Rome, where Menenius, talking to two tribunes, tells them good news has been promised by the
augurs ere night. Hearing his interlocutors exclaim such tidings will not be welcome to the people, who hate Marcius because of his boastful
pride, he justly accuses them of the very fault for which they blame Marcius.

After the tribunes have withdrawn, the three women approach, and Menenius courteously enquires why they are thus abroad. Thereupon
Volumnia proudly announces they are going to meet her son, who is returning victor, as a letter has just made known. She then adds that he will
probably find a similar missive awaiting him at home, and when Menenius anxiously enquires whether Marcius has been wounded, joyfully
exclaims he has indeed, and that these new wounds will bring him further honours. On hearing how Lartius himself wrote the news of Marcius'
triumphs and of Aufidius' escape, Menenius rejoices ere he enquires whether the news has also reached the senate. Then, turning to the two
tribunes who appear again, he tells them Marcius is coming, interrupting himself in the midst of his recital to find out from Volumnia where her
son was wounded, and how many scars he can now boast. A moment later a blast of trumpets heralds Marcius' arrival, his proud mother
exclaiming that, while noise goes before him, he leaves tears behind him, for she knows many foes have fallen beneath his hand.

We now behold the triumphal return of the Roman troops, Coriolanus, crowned with his oaken garland, marching between the consuls, while a
herald proclaims that fighting alone before Corioli, he won the name of Coriolanus, by which he is henceforth to be addressed. While all acclaim,
Coriolanus deprecatingly implores them not to cheer him, just as Cominius calls his attention to the little group of women by the roadside.
Kneeling respectfully before Volumnia, Coriolanus thanks her for her prayers, and then seeing his wife's tears, questions with playful deference
whether she would have laughed had he been brought home dead. Next, he receives greetings from Menenius, who vows Rome will ever honour
his name, a statement to which all present subscribe.

Taking leave of his wife and mother, Coriolanus now continues with the procession to the senate, Volumnia exclaiming as he leaves the scene
that she covets but one more honour for him, the consulship, although he rejoins he would rather be the people's servant in his own way than
sway with them in theirs. After the triumphal procession has swept out of sight, the tribunes comment on the fuss made over Coriolanus, adding
that should he ever be elected consul their offices would ' go to sleep,' for no authority would be left in their hands. Their only hope, therefore,
lies in the fact that a consul's election depends upon the votes of the people, and that to obtain them, a candidate must humbly beg for them,
exhibiting his wounds on the Forum, and thus bespeaking the favour of the voters. They artfully decide to remind the plebeians how Coriolanus
has hated and scorned them, and thus subtly work to defeat his ambitions. Just as they have reached this decision, a messenger summons them to
the Capitol, where Coriolanus is to be proposed as consul in reward for his heroic deeds. But, although they obey this summons, the tribunes do
so fully determined to use their eyes and ears to direct affairs according to their wishes.

We next behold the Capitol, where two officers are laying cushions for the consular candidates, remarking while doing so that Coriolanus is
'vengeance proud,' and has never shown any regard for the people. Still, as they cannot but agree he has deserved well of his country, they hope
his haughtiness will not interfere w r ith his election. A moment later a blast of trumpets announces the arrival of the two consuls, attended by a
train of lictors and senators, as well as by the candidates for office. While all the rest take their places, Coriolanus, seeing Cominius about to
make a speech in his behalf, begs permission to withdraw, muttering he would rather be wounded again than sit still and hear himself praised.
Then Cominius, in a wonderful speech, recalls the great deeds Coriolanus has performed in behalf of his country from the time when he was
sixteen. His eulogy is so warmly approved by all present that on his reappearance the senate select the hero as next consul, adding that he will,
however, have to bespeak the votes of the people in the Forum, ere his title is secure. Averse to don the garb of humility and sue for votes,
Coriolanus reluctantly yields to his friends' wishes, and betakes himself to the market-place, to display his scars and ask for voices; but,
perceiving his ungracious attitude, the tribunes ardently hope he will instead offend the people by addressing them in so haughty a manner.

The curtain next rises on the Roman Forum, where citizens, passing to and fro, discuss the coming election, adding that if Coriolanus humbles
himself sufficiently, they will support his election, as they do not wish to appear ungrateful. Still, they feel it so unlikely the hero will try to
conciliate them that they are greatly surprised to see him appear in the usual garb of humility, accompanied by Menenius. The latter, evidently
encouraging the reluctant candidate, urges him to seize this opportunity to win the votes of some men passing by. Stiffly and ungraciously, for he
would rather bid the plebeians keep at a distance and wash their faces, Coriolanus now bespeaks these men's votes. When asked, as usual, what
claim he urges to such a distinction, he haughtily rejoins his 'own deserts,' thereby further antagonising his interlocutors, who feel his election
depends solely upon their favour. Still, notwithstanding his repellent attitude, Coriolanus succeeds in winning a few votes, although he
obstinately refuses to exhibit his wounds, and restively cries, 'Better it is to die, better to starve, than crave the hire which first we do deserve.'

Nevertheless, with a sneer he cannot entirely suppress, Coriolanus concludes that, having gone so far, it is best to continue to the bitter end, and
so goes on asking for votes in a surly way. It is at this moment Menenius returns with the tribunes, who sullenly inform Coriolanus, that having
stayed in the market-place the customary length of time, and having won a certain number of popular votes, he is entitled to be invested with the
emblems of his office. But they angrily frown when he proposes to change his garments ere repairing to the senate with Menenius. When he has
gone, they also comment upon his evident irritation, and seeing some of the voters pass by, enquire why they favoured a man who mocks them,
until they gradually make them discontented with their choice. Finally they work the people up to the point of exclaiming that Coriolanus, not
having asked votes properly or exhibited his wounds, is unworthy of election, and that as he has not yet been installed in office, they will go to
the senate and denounce him as their enemy. This decision delights both tribunes, who, after giving the mob explicit directions how they are to
proceed, watch the rabble out of sight, before they, too, hasten to the Capitol, separately, for they do not wish to appear to have had any hand in
the coming turmoil.

Act III

The third act opens in a street in Rome, where Coriolanus, Menenius, and many others are welcoming Lartius, who has just returned, announcing
that Aufidius is at Antium gathering new troops to attack Rome. This is startling news; but when Coriolanus hears the Volscian general longs to
meet and beat him, he eagerly exclaims, 'I wish I had a cause to meet him there, to oppose his hatred fully.'

Then, seeing the two tribunes arrive, he expresses contempt for 'the voice of the people,' and when they forbid him to advance any further,
haughtily demands what this means, only to be told his election is not yet assured, as the people are incensed against him. Although Menenius
strives to keep Coriolanus calm in face of this calculated insult, he doesn't succeed, for the hero hotly denounces the tribunes in the most sarcastic
way, although they insist they are acting in behalf of the plebeians whom he has scorned and deprived of corn. Such remarks so incense
Coriolanus that his contempt for the 'mutable, rank-scented many' becomes more and more apparent. In fact, his remarks finally become so
offensive that the tribunes declare they will make them known to the people. Hoping to deter them, Menenius reminds them they are stirring up
evil feelings which will have bad results; but in spite of his efforts, Coriolanus denounces the tribunes, declaring the senators were wrong to allow
the people such officers, a statement they consider such rank treason that they call for an asdile to arrest the traitor. But, when this officer appears
to lay hands on Coriolanus, he is reviled and beaten off by the hero's friends.

The ensuing commotion attracts a rabble of plebeians, and although Menenius pleads for moderation on both sides, the tribunes instigate rabid
cries against Coriolanus for refusing corn gratis. Thus, before long, the hero is surrounded by a mutinous rabble; for, in spite of the speeches of
Menenius and of some of the senators in his behalf, the tribunes persuade the people to take their remarks in bad part, to accuse Coriolanus of
trying to destroy the city, to refuse to let him become consul, to call him traitor, and to clamour for his death. Unable to brook the disgrace of
arrest by an aedile, Coriolanus finally draws his sword, swearing some of them have already seen him fight and that he will now give the rest a
chance to see what he can do. In the midst of the confusion caused by Menenius' cries for peace, and the tribunes' clamours to have Coriolanus
arrested, a fight ensues, in which Coriolanus and the patrician party succeed in defeating the plebeians. This being accomplished, Menenius
entreats Coriolanus to return home, while some of the other patricians bid him stand fast and hold his own. Although Coriolanus would feel no
compunctions were he dealing only with foes, he yields to Menenius and Cominius when they urge him to forbear, and goes off with them, while
a patrician sagely concludes he has 'marred his fortunes,' because his nature is too noble to stoop to flattery.

The tribunes soon return, heading a rabble demanding the traitor who spoke ill of the Roman people, as they wish to throw him down from the
Tarpeian Rock like a common criminal. Even Menenius' remonstrances are not heeded, and when he states that Coriolanus, as consul, cannot be
touched, the cry arises he shall never hold office, as the people won't be governed by him. If he cannot be executed, the tribunes demand his
banishment, although Menenius begs them to overlook Coriolanus' hasty words. All his eloquence can obtain is permission to seek the hero, and
prevail upon him to apologise in the Forum, in which case the people will consider whether they can forgive him.

The curtain next rises in a room of Coriolanus' house, where, conversing with Menenius and the patricians, he vehemently declares that, although
they pull his house down over his head, or hurl him from the Tarpeian Rock, he will never truckle to plebeians again! To his great surprise,
however, his mother does not approve of these sentiments, although she fostered this intense pride; in fact, when he asks whether she would see
him false to her teachings, she opines he should have held his feelings in check until invested with authority. Next Menenius urges that unless he
apologise, their good city will 'cleave in the midst, and perish,' an opinion seconded by the rest, which determines Coriolanus to be influenced by
his friends, and humbly accept his mother's suggestions in regard to the style of address he is to make. Thus schooled, the senators and Cominius
escort him to the Forum, warning him every step of the way to restrain his wrath and speak 'mildly' because meanwhile the tribunes have been
steeling the people's hearts against him.

We are next transferred to the Forum once more, where the tribunes are eagerly plotting to charge Coriolanus with affecting tyrannical powers,
and with not justly distributing the spoil. They are soon joined by an aedile, announcing that Coriolanus is coming, accompanied by the patricians
who favour him. He adds that the disaffected people have been assembled and duly instructed, and seems glad when the tribunes state at their
mention of fine, banishment, or death, the plebeians will take up the cry, until there will seem no appeal against the popular sentence. These
measures settled, the asdile withdraws, while one of the tribunes arranges to irritate Coriolanus by repeated contradictions, thus forcing him to
speak out so boldly and intemperately that he will be condemned by his own mouth.

When Coriolanus, therefore, reluctantly appears, the aedile ushers in the citizens, whom the tribunes invite to draw near so as to hear what
Coriolanus has to say. Then, in the presence of the mob, the tribunes demand that the consular candidate submit to lawful censure for his
behaviour. But while Menenius tries to turn the tide by mentioning Coriolanus' services and wounds, the hero himself unwisely pronounces them
trifling matters, and by such bluntness further antagonises the commoners, although Menenius reminds him to keep calm and conciliate them.
When openly accused by one of the tribunes of treachery, Coriolanus, unable to restrain his wrath, publicly calls him a liar, which insult the
tribune bids the people note. Thereupon cries arise, 'to the rock, to the rock with him!' until the tribune calls for silence, stating that, although
Coriolanus deserves death for opposing the laws, his services in behalf of Rome entitle him to certain consideration.

This statement proves so offensive that Coriolanus declares he would rather be sentenced to death or exiled than have anything more to do with
ungrateful people. Whereupon the tribune immediately pronounces the sentence of banishment, and, as prearranged, the people shout Coriolanus
shall leave Rome under penalty of death! In spite of all Cominius can do, these shouts become so persistent that the banishment is decreed, while
Coriolanus fiercely avers he is glad to leave a place where he is so misunderstood. Ere he departs, however, he reviles both tribunes and people,
showing them how he despises them, and reminding them that, when he has turned his back upon the city, they will be defenceless. When
Coriolanus has departed with the patricians, the plebeians and aediles shout for joy, thinking they are rid of a foe, and the tribunes decide it will
be well to see Coriolanus safely out of the city. They, therefore, bid the citizens accompany them, a duty these men perform with enthusiasm,
calling upon the gods to preserve their noble tribunes!

Act IV

The fourth act opens before the gates of Rome, where Coriolanus is taking leave of family and friends, urging his mother, Volumnia, to
remember her own teaching, for she has always told him that 'extremity was the trier of spirits,' and has striven by wise precepts to steel him
against fate. The tears of his wife, however, almost unman him; still, when his mother curses the Romans, he reminds her she is not acting in a
patriotic manner. Then Coriolanus pities Menenius, whose tears are far more bitter than those of a young man, and refuses Cominius' proffered
company for a month, although he seems glad to accept his escort a short distance. After exchanging touching farewells with his wife, mother,
and friends, Coriolanus departs, saying they shall hear from him often, but 'never of me aught but what is like me formerly.'

A little later the two tribunes and an asdile are seen on the street gloating over the fact that they have seen the last of Coriolanus. But, although
triumphant, they deem it best to show humility and bid the a?dile dismiss the mob which is no longer needed. Then, seeing the women return
from the gate, the tribunes try to avoid them, but are unable to do so. When they come face to face, Volumnio. vehemently reviles her son's
enemies, although Menenius tries to restrain her, and silencing every remark the tribunes try to make, declares her noble son as far exceeds them
as the Capitol does the meanest house in Rome.

We next behold a highway between Rome and Antium, where a Roman and Volscian, meeting, begin to converse about public affairs. On hearing
the Roman report Coriolanus has been banished, and that the two political parties in Rome are divided, the Volscian expresses great delight, since
his general means to take advantage of this unfortunate state of affairs to attack Rome. He predicts that, knowing his worst enemy, Coriolanus,
has been banished, Aufidius will surely be victorious in this campaign.

The succeeding scene is played in Antium before Aufidius' house, whither Coriolanus arrives disguised as a beggar, and mutters that having made
so many widows in this city, it will be best not to make his presence known. Accosting a passing citizen, therefore, Coriolanus merely enquires
for Aufidius' house, and is surprised to learn he is standing directly before it, and that the general is entertaining the senators that night. But, when
his interlocutor passes on, Coriolanus bitterly muses on the change in his fortunes, for he, who was once Aufidius' greatest foe, has come hither to
join forces with him for the sake of revenge!

A moment later he has penetrated into the hall of Aufidius' house, where servants pass to and fro, while music is heard in an inner apartment.
Repeatedly dismissed by the servants, who take him for a beggar, and bid him begone, Coriolanus, in spite of these orders, presses on to the
hearth, whence, not daring to oust him, they call their master to turn him out. A moment later Aufidius, seeing a beggar on his hearth, enquires
who he is. Removing the folds of his mantle, Coriolanus, as Aufidius does not recognise him, prepares him for the announcement of his name, by
stating it is unmusical to Volscian ears. Then the exile makes himself known, adding he has been driven out of Rome and has come here to seek
revenge. When he grimly proposes to join the Volscians and help Aufidius in his present undertaking, the general exclaims in delight, and offers
him one-half of his command so he may lead a force against his native city. Then he leads him off to introduce him to the senators in the banquet
hall, where a warm welcome awaits him.

When Coriolanus and Aufidius have left the stage, the servants claim they noticed something imposing in the stranger's bearing, and are delighted
not to have followed their first impulse to turn him out of doors. The alliance just concluded between Aufidius and Coriolanus wins their full
approval, and they rejoice at the prospect of great victories, when one of their companions reports how gladly the senators are welcoming him.

We are now transferred to the public square in Rome, where the tribunes congratulate themselves upon the peaceful mood of the people, but
wonder no news has been heard of Coriolanus. While they are talking, Menenius appears, and when they taunt him, saying his friend is not
missed, he warns them they may yet have cause to regret their action, although he admits neither wife nor mother has heard from the banished
man. The people around him are showing great adulation to the triumphant tribunes, when an asdile joins them, stating a slave has just been
imprisoned for reporting the Volscian armies have entered Roman territory. While Menenius deems Aufidius' forces have been emboldened by
Coriolanus' absence, the tribunes discredit these tidings and exclaim the slave should be whipped. But, before measures can be taken to inflict
such a punishment, or to question the man as Menenius suggests, another messenger proclaims that all the senators are hastening to the Capitol,
with sober faces, owing to ominous news received.

Although the tribunes ascribe this perturbation to the slave's false report, the messenger affirms it has been ascertained Coriolanus has joined
forces with Aufidius, and that both are about to attack Rome. His news is confirmed by another man, who reports the troops are advancing in two
columns, one led by Coriolanus in person. After the tribunes have hurried away, Cominius and Menenius vehemently reproach the plebeians for
their share in the recent troubles, predicting that if Coriolanus has really joined the Volscians, Rome will be destroyed. Before, dispersing, the
terrified citizens blame their tribunes for misleading them, declaring they were opposed to Coriolanus' banishment, and would fain have him
recalled. For that reason, the tribunes ruefully comment on the variability of popular moods as soon as they leave the stage, but privately admit
that the news they have heard is alarming indeed.

The scene is now transferred to a camp near Rome, where Aufidius asks his lieutenant whether people are still flocking to Coriolanus' standard.
This man rejoins there must be witchcraft in the Roman, and that Aufidius has obscured his own reputation by accepting so powerful an ally.
Although ruefully admitting he has made a mistake, Aufidius cannot change matters now, and tries to excuse Coriolanus' haughty bearing as
innate. He adds that their new ally is faithfully doing all he can for the Volscian people, that it is likely he will soon take Rome and lay down the
law there to those who judged him, and that, after this consummation is reached, his former foe and present ally will be wholly in his power.
Act V

The fifth act opens on the public square in Rome, where two tribunes, Menenius, and Cominius meet with sundry others. All are talking excitedly
and we soon gather that Cominius has vainly entreated Coriolanus to spare the city. Although admitting the banished man often termed him '
father,' Menenius refuses to go forth to plead with him in his turn. Instead, he reproaches the tribunes for having stirred up this trouble, and
consents to intercede only after repeated entreaties on their part, although he cherishes little hope of success.

Knowing human nature, he decides it will be best to approach Coriolanus after dinner, when he will feel more inclined to mercy. But after
Menenius has departed, Cominius sadly avers he doesn't expect him to succeed, as the hero is brooding on revenge, and after listening coldly to
him, dismissed him, vowing unless Rome subscribed to his conditions her fate was sealed. The consul adds that Coriolanus' mother and wife are
about to go forth to solicit his mercy, and that he trusts their prayers may avail even if all the rest fail.

The next scene occurs in the Volscian camp, where sentinels check Menenius' approach, although he proclaims he is an emissary from Rome to
their general. It is only after a lengthy parley, and after angry assurances that they will be punished if they deny him access, that the noise of this
discussion attracts Coriolanus and Aufidius. Boasting that the sentinels will now see in what honour he is held, Menenius approaches Coriolanus,
whom he addresses as his son, pleading, with tears, in Rome's behalf. In reply, Coriolanus states he does not know the Romans any longer, and
hands Menenius a letter he had intended to send him. Then, turning to Aufidius, Coriolanus bids him note what reply he makes to such attempts
to soften his heart and how true he remains to Volscian interests. After this Coriolanus and Aufidius depart, the latter complimenting his ally
upon his 'constant temper,' while the sentinels slyly taunt Menenius for having less influence than he supposed with their general, thus calling
down upon their heads the vehement curses of the departing senator.

We next behold the interior of Coriolanus' tent, where he is explaining to Aufidius and other commanders the plans he has made, stating that on
the morrow they will be before the walls of Rome. At Coriolanus' request, Aufidius bears witness to his fidelity to the Volscians, and to his
steadfastness in repelling all intercessions. Just as Coriolanus has vowed he will listen to no further pleading, his wife, mother, and little son are
ushered in with their friends, having come hither to implore him to spare his country. On seeing them, Coriolanus realises with a pang that those
he loves best are about to besiege his heart. Still he tenderly embraces his wife, assuring her he has not kissed any one else since they parted, and
falls on one knee before Volumnia, who bids him stand and let her kneel, since she has come as a suppliant. Although Coriolanus feels the stars
must have fallen from their orbits since positions are so reversed, he courteously greets Valeria at his mother's request, and when his little son is
made to kneel before him, perceives how they are trying to soften him by every means in their power. He, therefore, sternly assures them that it
will be vain to ask him to dismiss his soldiers or make peace with the plebeians, since he is now an ally of the Volscians and obliged to serve
them. Then, seeing Aufidius and the other chiefs draw suspiciously aside, he bids them listen to all that is said, for he wishes them to see he is
wholly devoted to their interests.

His mother now describes how they have spent their time since his departure in tears, her eloquent speech being backed by Virgilia's trembling
hands raised in entreaty, and by a defiant speech from the child when his grandmother exclaims his father is about to tread on their hearts. Unable
to endure longer the torture of such prayers, Coriolanus rises as if to leave, but his mother clings frantically to him, vowing he shall not depart
until he has shown mercy. The united eloquence of mother, wife, and child, finally prevails, for, exclaiming his mother doesn't know what she has
done in winning this victory for Rome, Coriolanus turns to Aufidius, promising to conclude an honourable peace, and challenging him to act
differently in his stead.

Although admitting the women's prayers touched him, Aufidius, when Coriolanus announces he will never march on to Rome, mutters in an aside
that since mercy and honour are at difference in his ally, he'll take advantage of this fact to work out his own fortunes. Addressing the women,
meantime, Coriolanus promises to give them a treaty to bear back to Rome, adding that they deserve to have a temple built in their honour, for 'all
the swords in Italy, and her confederate arms, could not have made this peace.'

The curtain next rises on the Forum in Rome, where Menenius is assuring a tribune it would be easier to displace a corner-stone of the Capitol
than to change Coriolanus' heart. When the tribune urges that Coriolanus is devoted to his mother, Menenius retorts 'there is no more mercy in
him than there is milk in a male tiger.' Terrified by this assurance, the tribune starts when a messenger runs in, bidding him flee for his life, for the
people have seized his fellow in office, and swear that, unless the women return with news of peace, they will slay the men who devised
Coriolanus' banishment. A moment later another messenger joyfully announces the ladies have prevailed, news the tribune refuses to credit until
loud trumpet blasts confirm it. Greatly relieved, Menenius prepares to go and meet the ladies, who have done more for Rome than tribunes,
senators, and people put together. Not to remain behind at a time of joy, the tribune accompanies the patricians, who hasten off in a body to meet
the bearers of good tidings.

Further on, in a street near the gate, two senators soon appear escorting Volumnia and the other ladies back to the city, calling out to the people as
they pass that the peace is due to these ladies, who are, therefore, entitled to honour and acclamation.

We next behold the public square at Antium, where Aufidius arrives, saying he wishes the lords of the city apprised of his return, as it is his duty
to denounce a man who will soon enter the city. Soon after he is joined by a few members of his faction who come with eager offers of
assistance. When they suggest that the fall of Coriolanus will leave him sole wielder of the power, Aufidius doubts whether it is advisable to
resort to drastic measures, and describes how Coriolanus appealed to him, and how bravely they marched together toward Rome. This was
already within their grasp, when, influenced by women's tears, Coriolanus concluded the peace for which he is to die!
The noise of trumpets and cheers noW heralds Coriolanus' approach, and the conspirators exclaim that if Aufidius wishes to remain master he
must get rid of his rival. While he is trying to silence them, the lords of the city appear, and begin to reproach him for yielding to Coriolanus'
desire for peace.

Just then this Roman joins them, vowing he is as true to their interests as ever, and tendering the peace he has concluded with all due regard to
Volscian interests. Imploring all present not to read it, Aufidius hotly denounces Coriolanus as a traitor, who has abused the people's confidence
and betrayed them at his mother's request.

Such a statement necessarily provokes a quarrel, during which Aufidius treats Coriolanus with such contempt, that the hero proudly rehearses his
great deeds, including the taking of Corioli, and demands whether such are the deeds of a 'boy'. This reminds the Volscians that he has slain many
of their kin, and, rousing their passions, makes them clamour for his death. Under pretence of obeying these angry people, the conspirators now
rush forward, and repeatedly stab Coriolanus, who falls lifeless at Aufidius' feet, while the Volscian lords stand by appalled.

Standing on the corpse of his fallen foe, Aufidius promises an explanation which will cause all to rejoice that a threatening danger has been
averted. Then the Lords of Corioli order the body removed with all honour, Aufidius adding: 'Though in this city he hath widow'd and unchilded
many a one, which to this hour bewail the injury, yet he shall have a noble memory.'

Antony and Cleopatra: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Tragedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I

The first act opens in the palace at Alexandria, where two Romans discuss Mark Antony's infatuation for Cleopatra until a flourish of trumpets
ushers in this couple and their train. While one Roman whispers that 'the triple pillar of the world' is transformed 'into a strumpet's fool,' Cleopatra
implores Antony to say how much he loves her, until he fervently rejoins ' there's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.' Their amorous talk is
interrupted by a message from Rome, which Cleopatra sarcastically bids Antony heed as his wife, Fulvia, may be angry, or ' the scarce-bearded
Caesar,' may be sending him mandates. Such taunts cause Antony to declare Rome is naught and the universe represented solely by Cleopatra,
whom he embraces. When she inquires why he married Fulvia, he proposes that instead of wasting the day in vain recriminations they devote it to
pleasure, and when she urges him to receive the messengers, declines to have anything to do with Rome. As both leave the hall, the Roman
spectators marvel at Antony's contempt for Caesar, gravely admitting that 'sometimes, when he is not Antony, he comes too short of that great
property which still should go with Antony.'

In another room in the same palace, the queen's women and eunuch are consulting a soothsayer, who predicts their fortunes according to the lines
on their hands. But, when he states the women's end is near, and that they will die together after the lady they serve, both coquettishly protest
against such gruesome predictions, amid bantering remarks from the eunuch.

Just then Cleopatra enters demanding her lord, who left her abruptly, 'a Roman thought' having evidently struck him. She is just sending for
Antony when she sees him draw near, and artfully decides not to look at him, but pass him by. Without heeding this, Antony continues to
question the messenger, who describes how Fulvia and his brother, foes at first, joined forces against Caesar. He adds that a large part of the lands
Antony conquered is already lost, and that Rome reviles Cleopatra for beguiling him into idleness. Sadly admitting that 'when our quick minds lie
still,' they bring forth weeds, Antony dismisses this messenger and calls for the next.

He is muttering 'these strong Egyptian fetters I must break, or lose myself in dotage,' when the next messenger announces Fulvia's death, and
delivers a letter giving further particulars. While he passes out, Antony musingly avers 'there's a great spirit gone!' adding that he did not desire
this, and is more than ever determined to 'break away' from this enchanting queen,' for he realises his idleness is hatching many ills. Calling his
officer Enobarbus, Antony therefore informs him they must leave, a move Enobarbus opines 'will kill all our women.'

Seeing Antony does not heed this objection, this officer describes how 'Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly'; adding that
he has seen her die twenty times on lesser provocation. When Antony admits she is 'cunning past man's thought,' Enobarbus urges the great
strength of her passions, until Antony exclaims he wishes he had never seen her; but his man assures him he ' had then left unseen a wonderful
piece of work.'

When he learns Fulvia is dead, Enobarbus philosophically rejoins the deities take a man's wife from him, only to comfort him with a new love,
and because Antony remarks the business his wife began 'cannot endure his absence,' he suggests Cleopatra cannot endure it either. This answer
the general dismisses as light, stating he will break ' the cause of our expedience to the queen,' for now that Pompey has 'given the dare to Caesar,'
and is master of the seas, Antony foresees that, unless something is done immediately, they may yet have to reckon with another master of the
world. He therefore bids Enobarbus announce to the court his imminent removal while he arranges for departure.

In another room Cleopatra enquires of her women and eunuch where Antony may be, and bids one of them go in quest of him, reporting her
dancing in case he is sad, but if mirthful to describe her as ill. The eunuch having gone, Charmian, the maid, remarks if Cleopatra really loved
Antony, she would not act thus, whereupon the queen sagely informs her that to give way to a man in everything and cross him in nothing is the
best way to lose him. A moment later Antony enters to inform the pouting Cleopatra there is bad news. Although she petulantly vows she will not
listen, he coaxes until she jealously demands 'what says the married woman?' Antony, therefore, tries to impart to her Fulvia's death, but it is only
after some time that he can sufficiently quiet her suspicions to make her understand his wife is gone, Italy a prey to civil war, Pompey threatening
Rome, and he obliged to go there and fight. As Cleopatra refuses to believe him, Antony bids her read his letters, whereat she petulantly rejoins
she now perceives how coldly he will welcome the news of her demise! Entreating her not to quarrel with him and promising fidelity, Antony is
about to depart, when Cleopatra threatens to faint and thus detains him by her side. Then, after having taunted and teased him to the verge of
endurance, she suddenly melts and confesses she loves him, begs his forgiveness for detaining him, and finally sends him off with wishes for
victory and success. This softness overcomes Antony, who passionately assures her, 'thou, residing here go'st yet with me, and I hence fleeting,
here remain with thee.'

We now remove to a house in Rome, where Caesar, after reading a letter, informs Lepidus how news from Alexandria reports Antony fishing,
drinking, and revelling with Cleopatra, but paying no heed to state affairs. When Lepidus opines Antony's faults are hereditary, Octavius
considers he is too indulgent, for Antony should know better than to become Cleopatra's lover, reel through the streets, and buffet with knaves!
This dialogue is interrupted by a messenger, reporting Pompey strong at sea and constantly joined by malcontents, tidings which do not surprise
Octavius, for he considers 'this common body, like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, to rot itself
with motion.' When the messenger adds that pirates are making inroads into Italy which Pompey alone can check, Octavius fervently wishes
Antony would leave his 'lascivious wassails' and come and fight, for he remembers what hardships this general formerly endured and the feats he
performed when merely a dauntless soldier. This reminder of Antony's previous prowesses causes Lepidus to wail their companion is no longer
the same, while Octavius exclaims it is time to show themselves in the field, since ' Pompey thrives in our idleness.' Promising to furnish on the
morrow a full account of the forces he can muster, Lepidus departs, after farewells which show both are determined to turn all their energies
against the foe.

In Alexandria Cleopatra implores her maids and eunuch to give her a sedative, so she can 'sleep out this great gap of time' during which her
Antony is away. When her attendants assure her she thinks too much of him, Cleopatra reviles them for talking treason, and bids one of her men
sing to her. Still, she pays no heed to his music, but keeps wondering what Antony is doing or saying, and whether he is thinking of her and of the
extravagant compliments he once used to lavish on his 'serpent of old Nile'? While she is thus musing, Alexas delivers a jewel and letter from
Antony, vowing his master kissed them many times before forwarding them to her. Because Cleopatra eagerly enquires whether Antony was sad
or merry, he rejoins neither, a mood she interprets most favourably, ere she enquires whether Alexas met her posts? Although he reports crossing
twenty different messengers, she calls for ink and paper to forward another missive, questioning meanwhile whether she ever loved Caesar so
fervently, and threatening to strike Charmian when this maid attempts to paragon with Caesar her 'man of men'! When the maid humbly objects
she was merely repeating her mistress' words, Cleopatra rejoins she was then in her 'salad days' and 'green in judgment,' before she again calls for
writing materials, vowing Antony shall have 'every day a several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.'

Act II

The second act opens in Pompey's house in Messina, just as he enters exclaiming, 'if the great gods be just, they shall assist the deeds of justest
men.' His friends rejoin that, although the gods delay they do not deny, ere Pompey admits his powers are increasing, and he hopes to triumph,
for Antony is feasting in Egypt, Caesar alienating his followers by his avarice, and Lepidus weakening his cause by flattery. When one of his
followers rejoins that Caesar and Lepidus are in the field with mighty forces, Pompey refuses to believe him, for he fancies they must be still in
Rome, waiting for Antony, who, bewitched by Cleopatra, proves oblivious to everything else.

Just then an officer reports Antony has already left Egypt and is hourly expected in Rome; news unwelcome to Pompey, who wonders Antony
should have donned his helmet for such a petty war, and should have consented to forsake Cleopatra. When one of his followers suggests Caesar
and Antony cannot remain friends owing to Fulvia's machinations, Pompey shrewdly opines 'lesser enmities may give way to greater' and that,
through fear of him and his party, their petty divisions may be healed.

The next scene is played in the house of Lepidus, who cautions Enobarbus to entreat Antony to be gentle, an office the confidant haughtily
refuses, declaring should Caesar irritate Antony, the latter will doubtless 'speak as loud as Mars.' Just as Lepidus reminds him this is no time for
private quarrels, and that 'small to greater matters must give way,' Antony and Caesar enter with friends. The former remarks, if they succeed here
they can soon pass on to Parthia, while the latter refers some question to Agrippa. Lepidus now reminds those assembled that it behooves them to
cease debating private differences and think only of the public weal. All present having taken seats, Antony opens the council by remarking his
fellow-triumvirs have 'taken things ill which are not so.' When Caesar retorts it would be strange were he not offended, Antony haughtily
demands what difference it made whether he lingered in Egypt? To this Caesar rejoins that, during his absence, his wife and brother made war
against him, a move Antony never upheld, as he declares his letters prove. Assuming he is trying to patch up excuses, Caesar answers so coldly
that Antony hotly wishes he, too, had a spirited wife, for, owning one-third of the world, he needs such a companion. Nevertheless, Caesar insists
Antony is to blame for all the trouble stirred up by his wife, as well as for the riots in Alexandria, and taxes him with scorning his letters and
gibing at him publicly.

Imperiously, Antony explains these letters came when he had been feasting and was not himself, adding that the next day he made due atonement.
But, when Caesar accuses him of having broken the article of his oath, Lepidus interferes, although Antony insists Caesar speak out since he has
attacked his honour, which is sacred. Because Caesar states Antony denied him the arms and aid he requested, Antony exclaims that, fancying his
wife w r as making war merely to force him to leave Egypt, he naturally refused to budge. This excuse seems pertinent to Lepidus and the others,
'who try to reconcile Caesar and Antony by suggesting that they wrangle 'when they have nothing else to do.' Thus admonished, Caesar
reluctantly admits he doesn't so 'much dislike the matter, but the manner' of Antony's speech, yet is willing to overlook all and make friends, a
concession which Agrippa tries to make binding by suggesting that Octavius' sister be given in marriage to Antony. When Caesar bitterly remarks
Cleopatra may not admit Antony is a widower, the general haughtily returns he is not married, but ready to consider Agrippa's proposal. In detail,
this man now sets forth the advantages of such an alliance, his arguments convincing both parties, who agree to the alliance and shake hands on
the strength of this contract. The third triumvir seems equally delighted with this suggestion, and when it has been duly settled, all three amicably
discuss how best to oppose Pompey, whose forces have been increasing every day. But because they have decided to conclude the marriage
before arming, Cassar invites Antony to come immediately and view his beloved sister.

Amid a flourish of trumpets the three generals march out, while their friends begin to talk of Egypt, Enobarbus describing for the benefit of the
rest the feasting and merriment, and especially the beauty of Cleopatra, when she first met Antony on the Cydnus River. His enthusiastic
description of the state barge's silken and perfumed sails, of the queen's attire and attendants, accounts for the deep impression she produced upon
Antony, who not only joyfully accepted her invitation to supper, but prepared for it as a bridegroom for his wedding. When Agrippa admits
Cleopatra is 'such a royal wench' that she conquered the great Cassar, Enobarbus adds there is little prospect of his master really forsaking her,
since 'age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety: other women cloy the appetites they feed: but she makes hungry where most
she satisfies.' Although convinced of all this, Mecasnas concludes that if beauty, wisdom, and majesty can make a lasting impression, Octavia
will soon fetter Antony for good, and all agree to sup together ere they separate and leave the house.

The next scene occurs in Caesar's dwelling, after Antony's first momentous interview with Octavia, for he enters walking on one side of her while
Caesar escorts her on the other. When Antony gravely explains to his newly betrothed that 'the world and my great office will sometimes divide
me from your bosom,' she graciously rejoins that during such times she will pray for his success. Fascinated by such gentleness, Antony begs her
not to believe the world's report in regard to him, and promises to live squarely hereafter, ere he bids her good-night. Caesar and his sister having
retired, a soothsayer joins Antony, who, remembering having seen him in Egypt, begins talking to him. Not only does the soothsayer wish he had
never left that country, but advises Antony to hasten back there, warning him Caesar's fortunes are fated to rise highest. This prediction displeases
Antony, who refuses to listen when the soothsayer warns him that in playing with Caesar he will lose the game. After dismissing this bird of ill
omen, Antony calls for Ventidius, whom he intends to send to Parthia, while he returns to Egypt, for although he has concluded a marriage with
Octavia for peace's sake, he owns it is in the East his pleasure lies. When Ventidius joins him, therefore, Antony bids him start immediately for
Parthia, and soon leaves with him to complete arrangements.

Meantime Lepidus bids his friends Mecaenas and Agrippa escort him no further, but hasten back to their general, who, they rejoin, is taking leave
of Octavia. They playfully predict they will reach the tryst before Lepidus, who admits such may be the case, as he is coming by a roundabout
way.

In Egypt Cleopatra capriciously refuses to listen to the singer she summons, or to play billiards with her eunuch, with whom she indulges in a
dubious play of wit. But all at once she proposes to go fishing, and her mention of angling reminds Charmian of the day when her mistress had a
diver fasten salt fish to Antony's hook! This reminder pleases Cleopatra, who exclaims she laughed Antony out of patience that day, but laughed
him into it again before night.

Just then a messenger arrives, from whom she eagerly demands news. Because he hesitates to answer, Cleopatra wails Antony is dead, adding
that should he confirm her fears he will kill his mistress, but if he assure her of the contrary, he may kiss her hand. When the messenger gasps
Antony is well, Cleopatra effusively rewards him, only to interrupt him incredulously when he adds Antony and Caesar are friends. Because even
this statement concludes with a timorous 'but,' Cleopatra waxes so impatient that he finally blurts out the news of Antony's marriage to Octavia!
In her rage Cleopatra strikes the messenger, although her attendants try to check her fury, and hales him up and down by the hair, the man
meantime feebly protesting the match is not his fault. When the jealous queen bids him take back his words, he regrets not being able to do so,
and thus so exasperates her that she is about to slay him, when he saves himself by flight. Drawing near her mistress, Charmian now implores her
to exerelse some self-control, and Cleopatra, after raging for a while longer, recalls the man, from whom she wishes to extract further
information. When Charmian reports him afraid to appear, Cleopatra promises not to hurt him, murmuring her hands lacked 'nobility' in striking a
meaner than herself. When the maid reushers in the poor messenger, therefore, Cleopatra tells him it is an ungrateful task to bear bad news, yet
makes him repeat Antony has married Octavia, although she interrupts him frequently by exclamations of rage.

Dismissing him finally, Cleopatra gives way to a paroxysm of fury which Charmian vainly tries to soothe, until turning finally to her, Cleopatra
enquires whether in praising Antony she did not often dispraise Julius Cassar? When her attendant assures her such was the case, she bitterly
rejoins she is 'paid for't now.' Then, feeling faint, Cleopatra asks to be led to her apartment; but ere leaving, charges Alexas to make the
messenger report Octavia's features, her age, the colour of her hair, and her inclinations, for the Egyptian queen is madly jealous of the person
who now receives Antony's attentions. The next scene is played near Cape Misenum, where Pompey enters with his forces on one side, and the
triumvirs on the other. Haughtily addressing his foes, Pompey declares that having exchanged hostages, they can confer before fighting; a move
Cassar approves, for he remarks they sent written statements for Pompey to consider, and that unless he tie up 'his discontented sword' many will
perish on the field of battle. In return Pompey, alluding to the conspiracy which drenched the Capitol with blood and caused the battle of Philippi,
claims to be his father's avenger. Although assured that Cassar and Antony are not afraid to meet him, even at sea where his forces are greatest,
Pompey taunts them, until Lepidus enquires whether he will accept Sicily and Sardinia, rid the sea of pirates, send wheat to Rome, and cease to
make war against the triumvirs? This proposal Pompey says he was on the point of accepting when Antony's truculent speeches angered him. He
is, however, ready to make friends, as he proves by shaking hands with Cassar, who notices a great change in him, which Pompey ascribes to the
harsh fortunes he has recently endured. To cement this alliance feasts are suggested, Antony entertaining the rest with the famed Egyptian
cooking, which it is reported made even Julius Cassar grow fat!

In the course of the ensuing playful conversation, Pompey asks Enobarbus whether Cleopatra really was carried to Cassar in a mattress, and after
genially conversing with the rest, invites them on board his galley. All follow him thither, save Menas and Enobarbus, who discuss this meeting,
and wonder that Pompey should conclude such a treaty. They also mention the marriage of Antony and Octavia, in reference to which Enobarbus
shrewdly predicts that, 'the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity,' for he feels certain Antony
will 'to his Egyptian dish again,' and foresees that Octavia will then stir up Caesar's wrath.

Amid music, servants pass to and fro on Pompey's galley, commenting on the fact that their generals are drinking so freely that they are no longer
responsible. After a while trumpets usher in the generals, Antony gravely stating that in Egypt the height of the Nile waters serves to gauge the
prosperity which will visit the country at harvest time. When Lepidus enquires whether strange serpents are bred there from the mud, Antony
gives a fantastic description of the crocodile, to which the others listen, while one of Pompey's men draws him aside. It is clear Pompey does not
approve of this man's suggestion, since he indignantly terms him mad; still, the man insists if Pompey wishes to be master of the world, he need
but have the cables of his galley cut, and convey these drunken world conquerors out to sea, when here, after disposing of them, he need fear no
rivals! Rejoining this would be villainy on his own part, Pompey hints had his friend only known how to serve him, he would have executed this
plan without consulting him. This remark so enrages the officer that he goes off, muttering he will no longer follow the fortunes of a man 'who
seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offered,' a chance he feels he shall never find again. Meantime, turning to his companions, Pompey
proposes healths, until Lepidus, overcome by potations, has to be carried off the ship, whereupon the servants sarcastically comment that a third
part of the world is very drunk!

Meanwhile Pompey enquires whether this approaches an Alexandrian feast, only to be told by Antony it is gradually nearing one; so the drinking
continues, until the music entices the generals to dance. After this Caesar prepares to retire, declaring his tongue is splitting, and as they land,
Enobarbus warns both Antony and Caesar to be careful lest they fall, while Menas proposes going down into the cabin to talk sundry matters over
with him.

Act III

The third act opens in a plain in Syria, where Ventidius, having avenged Crassus' death, returns in triumph with the body of the prince of Parthia.
Although his followers urge him to pursue the fugitives through Media, Ventidius deputes a lieutenant to finish this work, lest Antony wax
jealous of his successes. Meantime, he proposes to send word/ of what he has done in Antony's name to Athens, following these tidings in person
as soon as possible.

We now witness a scene in Caesar's antechamber, where Agrippa asks Enobarbus whether the brothers have parted? He learns in return that
Pompey has gone, and the rest are about departing, Octavia weeping because she must leave Rome. Hearing Enobarbus profess devotion to
Cassar, his master, Agrippa returns the compliment by saying he adores Mark Antony; and both conclude Lepidus is only the tool of these great
men. They have barely departed together when Caesar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia come in, Antony begging his host not to escort them any
further, while Caesar reminds him he is bearing away a 'piece of virtue,' which has been set betwixt them 'as the cement' of their love. When he
urges Antony to take good care of his wife, the latter begs him not to offend him by mistrust, and takes leave, praying the gods to keep Caesar
during his absence. While bidding Octavia farewell, Caesar notes 'the April's in her eyes,' for she weeps at parting from him, while smiling upon
her new husband. After some whispered words Caesar reluctantly lets her go, his followers meanwhile wondering whether he will weep, and
mentioning the tears in Antony's eyes when Julius Caesar died, and when Brutus was slain. After embracing both sister and brother-in-law,
Caesar watches Antony depart with his wife, while trumpets sound the farewell note.

We return to Cleopatra's palace to find her lying on a lounge, wondering why the messenger does not appear? Her attendants rejoin the man is
afraid, a fact proved by his timid mode of approach, and by his remark that even 'Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you but when you are well
pleased.' Bidding him fear naught, the queen cross-questions him about Octavia, rejoicing when he describes her as a widow of thirty, with poor
complexion and undignified gait. Not only does she reward him for this information with gold, but bids him prepare to carry a letter to Rome,
complacently informing her attendants after he has gone, ' I repent me much that I so harried him.' When they flatteringly remark the man is a
judge of beauty since he has had the opportunity of seeing her, she goes off in a fine humour to write her letter, saying she will question him
further later on. The curtain next rises in Athens, where Antony informs his wife her brother is not treating him properly, and complains so
bitterly that Octavia sighs it is hard to stand between two men for both of whom she is inclined to pray, knowing while she entreats heaven to
favour one, she is praying against the other. To this Antony retorts she will have to mediate between them, while he raises an army to eclipse her
brother's in case of war. Pleased to be selected as peacemaker, Octavia prepares to set out for Rome, her husband speeding her departure.

In another room of the same house, Enobarbus asks Eros what news he has heard? The report that Caesar and Lepidus have triumphed over
Pompey causes Enobarbus to predict 'they'll grind the one the other,' ere he wonders what has become of his master. Eros describes Antony
pacing up and down the garden, denouncing Lepidus and threatening those who murdered Pompey. When Eno- barbus asks why the vessels are
rigged, Eros rejoins they are bound for Italy, ere he hastens off to join his master.

The rising curtain reveals Caesar exclaiming Antony has gone back to Egypt, where he and Cleopatra have been seen enthroned, with their
offspring at their feet! Not only has Antony bestowed upon Cleopatra all his recent conquests, but has proclaimed his Egyptian son ' king of
kings.' These tidings shock Agrippa, who vows Antony is getting too insolent, while Caesar claims the Romans can plainly see he is unworthy of
respect. He adds, besides, that they will not credit the accusations that he has despoiled Pompey, deposed Lepidus, and detained part of Antony's
revenues, charges which Agrippa thinks it would be well to answer, although Caesar asserts he has done so by proving Lepidus cruel and by
giving Antony Armenia. Nevertheless Agrippa and Mecaenas deem Antony will not be satisfied, just as Octavia arrives, affectionately greeting
the brother who hails her as 'a castaway.' After denying this, she explains she has come hither of her own free will to make peace between her
husband and brother. Hearing her remark that Antony granted her leave of absence, Caesar sarcastically retorts he was only too ready to let her
go, and questions whether she knows where he is at present. When Octavia innocently rejoins 'in Athens,' Caesar grimly informs his 'most
wronged sister' that her spouse has gone back to Egypt, where he is again subject to Cleopatra's wiles, news which Octavia refuses to credit until
it is confirmed by Mecaenas.
The next scene occurs near Actium, in Antony's camp, where here Cleopatra threatens Enobarbus, because he pronounces her unfit for war,
although she has decided to take part in the coming encounter. In an aside, Enobarbus comments upon the unwisdom of such a decision, and
when Cleopatra enquires what he is muttering, declares her presence 'needs must puzzle' Antony, who, having been 'traduced for levity,' requires
all his strength to oppose Caesar. He adds it is rumoured in Rome her eunuchs and maids are managing this war, an accusation which causes her
charitably to hope Rome may sink and the tongues of her detractors rot!

Just then Antony enters with his general Canidius, discussing the news received and wondering that the fight should be so near at hand. When
Cleopatra exclaims 'celerity is never more admired than by the negligent,' Antony declares it is a fitting rebuke, and decides the battle shall be by
sea. This decision is opposed by Cleopatra and by the general; but Antony insists upon accepting Caesar's challenge, although Enobarbus reminds
him his vessels are but poorly manned.

While Canidius is vainly trying to make Antony change his mind, a messenger reports Caesar's force in view. This man, too, implores Antony not
to trust to rotten vessels, but to settle this quarrel by land. Notwithstanding these warnings, Antony embarks with Cleopatra and Enobarbus,
leaving a soldier and the general to conclude sadly, 'our leader's led, and we are women's men.' In the next scene Caesar reviews his army on a
plain near Actium, and bids his general Taurus keep these forces in reserve until he has triumphed at sea, warning him that 'our fortune lies upon
this jump.'

In another part of the same plain Antony points out to Enobarbus where his squadrons are to be stationed, ere he goes off to count the ships of his
foe. Then forces march to and fro on the scene, while a naval battle is being waged, at the end of which Enobarbus cries all is over, and Antony's
fleet of sixty sail in full flight! While he is bewailing this defeat, the soldier, Scarus, joins him exclaiming 'we have kiss'd away kingdoms and
provinces,' and describing how in the midst of the fray Cleopatra fled, and how Antony clapped on 'his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,'
followed her. This soldier avers he 'never saw an action of such shame,' just as Canidius enters, declaring if Antony had not fled all would now be
well. Asked in what direction the fleet has gone, he designates the Peloponnesus, bitterly adding that he will surrender to Caesar, six kings having
already given him this example. But Scarus and Enobarbus decide to follow Antony's fortunes, although 'reason sits in the wind against' them.

After the battle of Actium, Antony enters Cleopatra's palace, exclaiming the earth is ashamed to bear him, and bidding his followers divide his
treasures and join Caesar. When they refuse to desert him, he vows he set them a cowardly example for which he blushes. In his humiliation he
longs to be alone, and has just sunk into dejected revery, when Cleopatra comes in, supported by her women and Eros. These attendants beseech
the queen to comfort Antony, who shudders at her sight, and hides his face when they urge him to make the first advances. Bitterly, Antony
recalls the part he played at Philippi, where his rival proved an inglorious spectator, and heaves a regretful sigh; so, seeing he will not make any
advances, Cleopatra draws near him in a suppliant attitude, and when he reproachfully states he is trying to 'convey his shame' out of her eyes,
entreats his pardon for fleeing. Hearing her stammer she little thought he would follow her, Antony rejoins she knew his heart was to her 'rudder
tied by the strings' so it was inevitable she should tow him after her. But, because she humbly sues for pardon, he finally kisses away her tears,
vowing 'one of them rates all that is won and lost' and adding that he will see what answer his schoolmaster will bring from Caesar. This scene
closes with his assurance that 'Fortune knows we scorn her most when most she offers blows.'

The next scene is played in camp, where Caesar receives Antony's messenger, his lieutenant commenting upon the fact that the defeated general,
who once had 'superfluous kings' at his command, now has to use humble emissaries. After transmitting Antony's greeting, the schoolmaster
requests he may continue to live in Egypt, or retire to Athens, while Cleopatra and her children continue to reign over Egypt. Although Caesar
haughtily refuses to treat with Antony, he declares if Cleopatra will drive away or kill 'her all-disgraced friend' 'she shall not sue unheard.' It is as
bearer of this message that the schoolmaster departs, while Caesar enjoins upon Thyreus to go and win Cleopatra away from Antony, noting,
besides, how the latter 'becomes his flaw, and what thou think'st his very action speaks in every power that moves.'

In the palace Cleopatra consults Enobarbus, who deems they have no alternative save to 'think, and die.' Still, he blames Antony only, considering
the queen justified by her sex for showing fear. He cannot conceive, however, how Antony could forfeit half the world to follow her, and is
discussing this knotty point with Cleopatra, when Antony enters with the schoolmaster, whose report he can hardly credit. When told again the
queen will be courteously treated provided she yield him up, Antony grimly bids her send his grizzled head 'to the boy Caesar.' Hearing these
bitter words, Cleopatra tries to pacify him, but he hastens out to challenge Caesar 'sword against sword,' although Enobarbus feels sure the
conqueror will not accept, and shrewdly adds, 'I see men's judgments are a parcel of their fortunes.'

At that moment an attendant announces a messenger from Caesar, his abrupt manner proving some of Cleopatra's power is already gone. She
bewails this, while Enobarbus comments that 'loyalty well held to fools does make our faith mere folly.' Still he realises those who follow a fallen
lord, 'conquer him that did his master conquer,' and earn 'a place i' the story.' Thyreus is now ushered in, and craves a private interview with
Cleopatra, who assures him 'none but friends' are present. When Thyreus objects they may be friends of Antony as well, Enobarbus retorts his
master needs them just as much as Caesar! Turning to the queen, Thyreus explains that, knowing she clung to Antony through fear more than
love, Caesar is inclined to pity rather than blame her. When Cleopatra hypocritically concedes she was conquered rather than won, Enobarbus
questions this statement beneath his breath, and concludes that as his master, like a sinking ship, is being deserted, he had better follow the
general example. He, therefore, slips out, while Thyreus enquires what reply he is to convey to Caesar, who offers to be Cleopatra's 'staff,'
provided she will forsake Antony and place herself wholly under his protection. After enquiring the messenger's name, the subtle Cleopatra bids
him report she lays her crown at Caesar's feet, and awaits the doom of Egypt 'from his all-obeying breath.' Pleased to bear so satisfactory a
message, Thyreus begs permission to kiss her hand, a favour she grants with the remark that 'your Caesar's father oft ... bestow'd his lips on that
unworthy place, as it rain'd kisses.'

Even while Thyreus is receiving this token of favour Antony appears, and driven mad by jealousy, orders the ambassador whipped. Then, while
the culprit is hurried off to his doom, he reviles Cleopatra, angrily mentioning all the lovers she had before him, and accusing her of trying to win
every man she sees. He is still raging when the chastened Thyreus is brought back by his order, and told to return to Caesar bearing Antony's
challenge. After he has gone, Cleopatra cleverly soothes her irate lover, and so restores his confidence in himself that he proposes to celebrate her
birthday by another ' gaudy night.' After that he will go forth to fight, and swears: 'I'll make death love me; for I will contend even with his
pestilent scythe.' As Antony and Cleopatra leave the room, Enobarbus sagely comments, 'when valour preys on reason, it eats the sword it fights
with,' and feels more than ever inclined to desert so rash a master.

Act IV

The fourth act opens in the Roman camp, where Caesar, after reading Antony's challenge, contemptuously bids his friends 'let the old ruffian
know I have many other ways to die.' Then, after deciding he will on the morrow fight 'the last of many battles,' he gives orders that his army be
feasted. Meantime, on receiving Caesar's refusal to meet him in single encounter, Antony boasts 'by sea and land I'll fight: or I will live, or bathe
my dying honour in the blood shall make it live again.' This settled he, too, orders a feast, and, to Cleopatra's surprise, shakes hands with all his
serv- ants, thanking them for having served him faithfully. Then he bids them wait upon him once more, assuring them their services won't be
required any longer, and seeing tears in their eyes, tries to cheer them by saying, 'I hope well of to-morrow ; and will lead you where rather I'll
expect victorious life than death and honour.'

While the revelry of Antony's 'gaudy night' is at its height, the soldiers on guard without the palace exchange remarks, commenting upon the
coming battle, and strange noises heard in the streets. Suddenly their attention is attracted by mysterious music in the air which gradually seems
to pass out of the city, whence they superstitiously conclude the god Hercules is forsaking Antony and going over to the enemy.

At dawn, Antony calls for his armour, although Cleopatra tries to beguile him to rest a little longer. When Eros produces the weapons, Cleopatra
insists upon helping her lover don his armour, thereby winning his praise and the gallant assurance that 'he that unbuckles this, till we do please to
daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.' He is wishing Cleopatra could see him fight, proudly assuring her she would see 'a workman in't,' when
soldiers enter, whom he jovially greets; then, kissing Cleopatra good-bye he leaves her, 'a man of steel,' bidding all who wish to fight follow him
closely. After he has gone, Cleopatra is tenderly led back to her chamber by Charmian, murmuring Antony has departed gallantly, and that she
wishes 'he and Cassar might determine this great war in single fight!'

Arriving at camp, Antony is greeted by good wishes from the soldier who, at Actium, tried to make him stake his fortunes on a land battle rather
than trust to rotten ships. Since then the soldier has noted many desertions, reporting as the latest the departure of Enobarbus, who has just gone
over to Caesar's camp. Hearing this man left his treasures behind him, Antony generously orders them sent after him, with a letter containing
'gentle adieus and greetings,' together with the hope he will 'never find more cause to change a master.' Then he groans to himself that his '
fortunes have corrupted honest men!' Meantime, in Caesar's camp preparations are being made for the coming battle, where Antony is to be taken
alive, if possible, and where Caesar predicts 'the time of universal peace is near. Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world shall bear the
olive freely.'

Just then a messenger reports Antony is in the field, so Cassar orders those who have deserted him to fight first. While he hurries out to see his
orders executed, Enobarbus remarks that Alexas, who deserted Antony, has been hanged, that none of the deserters enjoy ' honourable trust,' and
concludes he did ill to forsake his master and can 'joy no more.' While he is talking to himself a soldier informs him Antony has sent his treasures,
but when Enobarbus bids him take them all, the soldier, deeming he is joking, enjoins upon him to see the messenger safely out of camp, adding
admiringly, 'your emperor continues still a Jove.' Pierced to the quick by Antony's generosity, Enobarbus declares it has so broken his heart, that
he will seek 'some ditch where herein to die; the foul'st best fits my latter part of life.'

On the battle-field between both camps Agrippa retreats with his forces, exclaiming their 'oppression exceeds what we expected.' He is closely
followed by Antony and Scarus; and the latter, although wounded, enthusiastically exclaims that had they fought thus before, they would surely
have conquered. When Antony urges him to go and have his wounds dressed, Scarus jocosely rejoins there is room on his person for many more
gashes. They are still talking when Eros appears to report they are triumphing, news which puts new ardour into both Antony and Scarus.

Beneath the walls of Alexandria Antony arrives in triumph, having beaten the foe back to their tents, and decided to postpone the rest of the
victory until the morrow. He is shaking hands with Scarus when Cleopatra appears, whom he rapturously clasps to his heart, bidding her 'ride on
the pants triumphing!' When she exults that he has come 'smiling, from the great world's snare uncaught,' he dubs her his nightingale, and relates
the day's feats, bidding her allow brave Scarus to kiss her hand. Not only does Cleopatra grant this favour, but she promises the man a golden
armour, ere Antony leads her off to the city, where music heralds their triumphant return.

Night has come, and sentinels in Csesar's camp watch the stars, discussing the coming battle, and declaring the one just waged proved very
unkind to their party. While they are talking, Enobarbus strolls on the scene, talking to himself, and his actions seem so suspicious that the
sentinels hide to watch him, commenting softly on all he says and does. They thus overhear him confess to the moon how sorely he repents his
treachery, and wail that the world will register him as ' master-leaver,' His grief is so heartrending that the sentinels are about to address him,
when he falls in what they take for a swoon. But, when they emerge from their hiding place and try to revive him, they discover he is lifeless, and
bear away his corpse.

Between the two camps Antony and Scarus appear, the former exclaiming Caesar is about to try his fortunes by sea. Undismayed, he calmly
awaits the result of this battle, which he has come to watch from a neighbouring height. Meantime, in another part of the field, Caesar informs his
army that as all Antony's best forces man the ships, he proposes to attack him by land.
Unable to see as much as he wishes from the point he has chosen, Antony climbs higher still, while Scarus comments that 'swallows have built in
Cleopatra's sails their nests,' that the augurs refuse to speak, and that Antony's spirits are so fluctuating that the result of the day seems very
doubtful. Great noise of a battle at sea is heard, and before long Antony rushes in exclaiming all is lost, since the Egyptian fleet has surrendered!
In his wrath he curses Cleopatra, bids his men save themselves, and declares that ' when I am revenged upon my charm, I have done all.' Scarus,
having hastened off to warn the army of the fleet's defeat, Antony bids farewell to the sun, whose rising he never expects to see again, bitterly
adding that the people who once fawned upon him will now pay court to Cassar. He realises he has been beguiled into this war by 'this false soul
of Egypt,' and is just calling for Eros when Cleopatra enters. Recoiling from her in horror, Antony bids her not approach lest he mar her beauty,
and thus detract from Caesar's triumph! His allusions to her progress through Rome behind the conqueror's chariot, where patient Octavia will
plough her visage ' with her prepared nails,' so horrify Cleopatra, that she flees in dismay, while Antony compares himself to the tortured and
dying Hercules. Still he is determined Cleopatra shall perish, too, for having betrayed him, and loudly calls for Eros to execute his revenge.

Having fled from Antony's enraged presence to her own apartment, Cleopatra hysterically sobs he is mad ; then eagerly adopts Charmian's
suggestion that she take refuge in the monument, where she can guard against every attack, since 'the soul and body rive not more in parting than
greatness going off.' She, therefore, bids her eunuch report to Antony she died breathing his name, and send word after her how this news is
received.

Meantime, Antony asks Eros whether he was ever mocked by mirage, and vows he does not at present behold Antony the conqueror, but one
whom Cleopatra has betrayed. His man is weeping over his sorrows when the eunuch enters, to inform Antony his mistress has just expired with
his name on her lips! These tidings are received with uncanny calmness by Antony, who, after dismissing the eunuch, bids Eros unarm him, for
'the long day's task is done, and we must sleep.' While his man removes the battered gear Antony never expects to don again, he mutters he will
soon overtake Cleopatra and sue her pardon for having misjudged her. Then, left alone, he ardently pictures their entrance, hand in hand, to the
land of shades, 'where souls do couch on flowers,' and where they'll enter 'hand in hand, and with our sprightly port' will 'make the ghosts gaze.'

Summoning Eros, who has carried away his discarded weapons, Antony next states it is a disgrace to live since Cleopatra has gone, and reminds
his man of the promise once given to slay his master when the latter bade him do so. Seeing Eros shrink from this task, Antony fiercely demands
whether he wishes to see him grace Caesar's triumph, and urges him to keep his oath. At first, all Antony's eloquence proves vain, but finally Eros
gasps he may gain courage to do it if his master will only assure him of his forgiveness, bid him farewell, and turn aside his noble countenance.
But, when all this has been done, Eros stabs himself, exclaiming 'thus do I escape the sorrow of Antony's death.' Pronouncing his man 'thrice-
nobler' than himself, and vowing Eros and Cleopatra have set him such an example that it behooves him to act as a bridegroom and run to his
death 'as to a lover's bed,' Antony falls upon his sword, inflicting so painful a wound that he groans for his guards to despatch him. These men,
rushing in, refuse this humane office; but one of them, picking up Antony's bloody sword, darts off with it to Caesar. Meantime, pleading for
death, Antony addresses a newcomer, whose remark that Cleopatra sent him, reveals she is not dead as was supposed. On discovering his charmer
has taken refuge with her treasures in the monument, Antony, anxious to die in her presence, implores the guards to carry him thither; so,
although fearing he may expire on the way, they gently raise and bear away the general who so often led them on to victory.

In the interior of the monument, Cleopatra moans she will 'never go from hence,' and insists, in spite of all proffered consolations that 'our size of
sorrow, proportion'd to our cause, must be as great as that which makes it.' While she is moralising thus, a messenger bids her look out and see
the dying Antony brought to her by his guards. A moment later Antony appears upon the scene, and perceiving his plight Cleopatra's heart melts.
To reassure her, Antony himself exclaims, 'Peace! not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, but Antony's hath triumph'd on itself,' a state of
affairs she deems fitting though passing sad. When Antony adds he is dying fast, and wishes to exhale his last breath in a kiss, she refuses to
come down lest she fall into Caesar's hands. But she and her maids laboriously draw him up into the monument, where she strains him to her
heart. Collecting his last strength, Antony then warns beloved 'Egypt,' as he calls her, not to trust any of Caesar's followers save Proculeius, and
bids her remember him only as he was in his prime, rejoicing that he dies 'a Roman by a Roman valiantly vanquish'd.' Then, as his eyes close in
death, Cleopatra wails 'the crown of the earth doth melt,' and that 'there is nothing left remarkable beneath the visiting moon.' In the midst of her
lament she sinks into a swoon, so that her maids fancy she is dead, too; but, after a while, Cleopatra comes to life again, only to bewail her lot,
and question whether 'it is sin to rush into the secret house of death, ere death dare come to us?' Then, perceiving her women's grief, Cleopatra
rouses herself sufficiently to say they will bury Antony, 'and then, what's brave, what's noble, let's do it after the high Roman fashion, and make
death proud to take us.'

Act V

The fifth act opens in Caesar's camp just as he is directing an officer to go and demand Antony's surrender. This man has barely departed when a
guard bursts in, accounting for his unmannerly intrusion by gasping Antony was his master while he lived. When he reveals Antony's suicide,
Caesar, at first, can scarcely credit it, although he eloquently praises the man whose faults he deprecates while lauding his great deeds, and
concludes his panegyric with the statement that they 'could not stall together in the whole world,' because their stars were unreconcilable.

The arrival of a messenger from Cleopatra, asking his intentions, so she 'preparedly may frame herself to the way she's forced to,' interrupts this
scene. Bidding the man rejoin that Cleopatra may be of good heart 'for Caesar cannot live to be ungentle,' he dismisses this messenger, sending
Proculeius after him to comfort the queen, 'lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke she do defeat us; for her life in Rome would be eternal in
our triumph.' Then Caesar invites the rest to his tent, where he offers to prove to them 'how hardly' he was drawn into this war, and how calmly
and gently he proceeded in all his writings.

In the interior of the monument Cleopatra is musing how even a Caesar is only 'Fortune's knave' when Proculeius delivers the conqueror's
greetings and request that she 'study on what fair demands' she wishes him to grant her. Ascertaining that this is the very man Antony bade her
trust, Cleopatra rejoins that when a queen turns beggar she can sue only for a kingdom, and that hence she entreats her son may have Egypt,
promising all gratitude in return. All Proculeius can rejoin is the assurance she has fallen 'into a princely hand,' together with a promise to convey
her request to see Caesar face to face.

The hollowness of this exchange of courtesies is proved by the fact that, having forced their way into the monument as ambassadors, the Romans
now treacherously take possession of it, and make Cleopatra their prisoner, deftly disarming her when she draws a dagger to slay herself. Then
they sternly warn her not to abuse their master's bounty by undoing of herself, whereupon she calls for death, vehemently declaring she will
neither eat nor drink if she cannot save herself otherwise from being stared at in Rome. To pacify her, Proculeius assures her 'you do extend these
thoughts of horror further than you shall find cause in Caesar.' Then, summoned to his master, he entrusts her keeping to his comrade Dolabella,
and departs, promising to do his best for the captive queen.

When he has gone, Dolabella vainly tries to rouse Cleopatra, who finally gasps she dreamt there was a man called Antony, whose 'legs bestrid the
ocean,' and whose 'voice was propertied as all the tuned spheres.' It is only when her enthusiastic description of Antony is finished, that she
becomes conscious of Dolabella, from whom she wrings the admission that she is, indeed, destined to figure in Caesar's triumph.

Just then trumpets proclaim the arrival of Caesar, before whom Cleopatra sinks on her knees as a suppliant, only to be told to rise since her
injuries are forgotten, and assured if she prove amenable to reason she will find 'a benefit in this change.' Caesar adds the stern warning, however,
that if she resorts to 'Antony's course' she will jeopardise her children's future. Hearing this, Cleopatra humbly proffers the inventory of her
treasures, assuring Caesar she reserves naught, as her treasurer can bear witness. But, instead of confirming these words, her treasurer reveals she
has reserved more than half her fortune for her own use, a thrift Caesar admires, while Cleopatra hotly reviles the man for betraying her. Hoping
to give a favourable colour to this unexpected revelation, Cleopatra next pretends she reserved these things as propitiatory gifts for Caesar's wife
and sister, and after dismissing her treasurer philosophically remarks, 'Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought for things that others do;
and, when we fall, we answer others' merits in our name, are therefore to be pitied.'

After assuring her she can retain her treasures, and that he will do nothing without consulting her, Caesar leaves, while Cleopatra watches him
depart, murmuring he is trying to prevent her from being noble' to herself. Then she whispers a few words in Charmian's ear, whence Iras
gloomily concludes 'the bright day is done, and we are for the dark.' Just then Dolabella reenters and curtly informs the captive queen that Caesar
is about to leave for Syria, where she and her children are ordered to precede him.

Grateful for this warning, Cleopatra watches Dolabella retire, and then asks Iras how they could endure to be exposed to the stares of the vulgar
in Rome, where their Alexandrian revels will be staged, and 'some squeaking Cleopatra ' will 'boy my greatness.' Rather than undergo such
humiliation, Iras is ready to scratch out her own eyes; a way to ' fool their preparation ' that Cleopatra approves. But, when Charmian reenters, she
surprises both maids by bidding them attire her as when she met Antony on the Cydnus, assuring them that, that duty fulfilled, she will give them
'leave to play till doomsday.'

While the women are preparing this elaborate toilet, a guard reports that ' a rural fellow 'insists upon being admitted, so Cleopatra bids him usher
the man in, whispering ' he brings me liberty. My resolution's placed, and I have nothing of woman in me: now from head to foot I am marble-
constant.' As this soliloquy ends, the peasant enters, and when sure the guard cannot overhear them, Cleopatra eagerly enquires, ' Hast thou the
pretty worm of Nilus there, that kills and pains not?' She seems gratified when she learns the basket contains figs and deadly asps, whose bite the
man volubly assures her is mortal. Bidding him set the basket down, Cleopatra dismisses him, so he reluctantly leaves, wishing her ' all joy of the
worm.' After he has gone, the women bring in Cleopatra's regal attire, wherein she urges them to hurry and array her, for Antony is calling her,
and will surely praise her noble act. When duly decked out, Cleopatra kisses both maids farewell and as her lips touch Iras, the girl, overcome by
her emotions, falls dead, while her mistress dully wonders whether she can have the aspic in her lips?

While Charmian weeps, Cleopatra reiterates she must hurry or Iras will be first to meet Antony, who will 'make demand of her, and spend that
kiss which is my heaven to have.' Saying this, Cleopatra takes an asp from the basket and applies it to her breast, exclaiming, 'with thy sharp teeth
this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie.' Because Charmian laments at the sight, Cleopatra murmurs it is her babe feeding at her breast, and
rouses herself from her lethargy, only to apply a second asp to her arm, such is her eagerness to rejoin Antony. She has just breathed her last, and
Charmian is tenderly adjusting her crown and robes, when guards rush in. Muttering Caesar has sent too slow a messenger, Charmian deftly
applies an asp to her own arm, just as the guards become aware there is something strange in the queen's attitude. While some loudly call for
Dolabella, one reproachfully asks Charmian whether this is well, whereat she triumphantly rejoins 'It is well done, and fitting for a princess
descended of so many royal kings,' ere she, too, sinks down lifeless.

When Dolabella enters, therefore, he finds three corpses, and exclaims Caesar himself is coming only to 'see perform'd the dreaded act' ' which he
sought to hinder. These words are scarcely uttered when Caesar marches in, only to be greeted by the remark, 1 O sir, you are too sure an augurer,
that you did fear is done.' Exclaiming ' bravest at the last, she levell'd at our purposes, and being royal, took her own way,' Caesar bends over the
bodies to investigate the mode of death employed; while Dolabella questions the guards and hears of the rustic's visit. The basket of figs is still in
evidence, while the guard describes how Charmian was alive when he came in, and how suddenly she died. Sure if they had taken poison their
beauty would be marred, whereas now Cleopatra 'looks like sleep, as she would catch another Antony in her strong toil of grace,' Caesar
continues to search. Just then Dolabella discovers a slight puncture on the queen's arm and breast, and one of the guards perceives the slimy trail
of an asp on the fig leaves. The mystery being thus solved, Caesar explains he has just learned from Cleopatra's physician, that his mistress '
pursued conclusions infinite of easy ways to die.' After ordering her body removed, and decreeing ' she shall be buried by her Antony: no grave
upon earth shall clip in it a pair so famous,' Caesar adds that after the funeral he will return to Rome, but bids Dolabella 'see high order in this
great solemnity.'
 JULIUS CAESAR

Synopsis

The play opens with two tribunes discovering the commoners of Rome celebrating Julius Caesar's triumphant return from defeating the sons of
his military rival, Pompey. The tribunes, insulting the crowd for their change in loyalty from Pompey to Caesar, attempt to end the festivities and
break up the commoners, who return the insults. During the feast of Lupercal, Caesar holds a victory parade and a soothsayer warns him to
"Beware the ides of March", which he ignores. Meanwhile, Cassius attempts to convince Brutus to join his conspiracy to kill Caesar. Although
Brutus, friendly towards Caesar, is hesitant to kill him, he agrees that Caesar may be abusing his power. They then hear from Casca that Mark
Antony has offered Caesar the crown of Rome three times and that each time Caesar refused it with increasing reluctance, in hopes that the crowd
watching the exchange would beg him to accept the crown, yet the crowd applauded Caesar for denying the crown, upsetting Caesar, due to him
wanting to accept the crown. On the eve of the ides of March, the conspirators meet and reveal that they have forged letters of support from the
Roman people to tempt Brutus into joining. Brutus reads the letters and, after much moral debate, decides to join the conspiracy, thinking that
Caesar should be killed to prevent him from doing anything against the people of Rome if he were ever to be crowned.
After ignoring the soothsayer, as well as his wife Calpurnia's own premonitions, Caesar goes to the Senate. The conspirators approach him with a
fake petition pleading on behalf of Metellus Cimber's banished brother. As Caesar predictably rejects the petition, Casca and the others suddenly
stab him; Brutus is last. At this point, Caesar utters the famous line "Et tu, Brute?"[2] ("And you, Brutus?", i.e. "You too, Brutus?"), concluding
with "Then fall, Caesar!"
The conspirators make clear that they committed this murder for the good of Rome, not for their own purposes, and do not attempt to flee the
scene. Brutus delivers an oration defending his own actions, and for the moment, the crowd is on his side. However, Mark Antony makes a subtle
and eloquent speech over Caesar's corpse, beginning with the much-quoted "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!"[3] In this way, he
deftly turns public opinion against the assassins by manipulating the emotions of the common people, in contrast to the rational tone of Brutus's
speech, yet there is method in his rhetorical speech and gestures: he reminds them of the good Caesar had done for Rome, his sympathy with the
poor, and his refusal of the crown at the Lupercal, thus questioning Brutus's claim of Caesar's ambition; he shows Caesar's bloody, lifeless body
to the crowd to have them shed tears and gain sympathy for their fallen hero; and he reads Caesar's will, in which every Roman citizen would
receive 75 drachmas. Antony, even as he states his intentions against it, rouses the mob to drive the conspirators from Rome. Amid the violence,
an innocent poet, Cinna, is confused with the conspirator Lucius Cinna and is taken by the mob, which kills him for such "offenses" as his bad
verses.
Brutus next attacks Cassius for supposedly soiling the noble act of regicide by having accepted bribes. ("Did not great Julius bleed for justice'
sake? / What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, / And not for justice?" [4]) The two are reconciled, especially after Brutus reveals that
his beloved wife committed suicide under the stress of his absence from Rome; they prepare for a civil war against Mark Antony and Caesar's
adopted son, Octavius, who have formed a triumvirate in Rome with Lepidus. That night, Caesar's ghost appears to Brutus with a warning of
defeat. (He informs Brutus, "Thou shalt see me at Philippi."[5])

At the battle, Cassius and Brutus, knowing that they will probably both die, smile their last smiles to each other and hold hands. During the battle,
Cassius has his servant kill him after hearing of the capture of his best friend, Titinius. After Titinius, who was not really captured, sees Cassius's
corpse, he commits suicide. However, Brutus wins that stage of the battle, but his victory is not conclusive. With a heavy heart, Brutus battles
again the next day. He loses and commits suicide by running on his own sword, held for him by a loyal soldier.
The play ends with a tribute to Brutus by Antony, who proclaims that Brutus has remained "the noblest Roman of them all"[6] because he was the
only conspirator who acted, in his mind, for the good of Rome. There is then a small hint at the friction between Mark Antony and Octavius
which characterises another of Shakespeare's Roman plays, Antony and Cleopatra.

Measure for Measure: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company (1910).

Act I
The first act opens in Vienna, in the palace, just as the duke is informing his worthy counsellor, Escalus, that, trusting in his wisdom, he appoints
him chief adviser of the man who will represent him during his absence. Then, after sending for this individual, he asks Escalus' opinion of his
choice. The counsellor gravely rejoins that, if any man in Vienna 'be of worth to undergo such ample grace and honour, it is Lord Angelo,' who
just then appears.

After praising Angelo for his modest, virtuous character, the duke bids him take charge of the government during his absence, altering and
amending the laws as he sees fit. Although Angelo demurs that a test of his merit should be made before entrusting him with such responsibility,
the duke names him his substitute, and gives him Escalus as adviser. Then, refusing Angelo's escort, the duke departs, confident he is leaving his
affairs in good hands. After he has gone, Escalus begs to consult with Angelo, who invites him therefore to accompany him home.

When the curtain next rises, we behold a street in Vienna, where Lucio, a gentleman, talking to two companions, wonders whether the duke will
succeed in making peace with Hungary. Their sprightly conversation touches upon sundry other topics, thus giving the spectators an idea of
society in Vienna at that epoch. These three young men are finally interrupted by Mistress Overdone, keeper of a house of ill-fame, with whom
all three are acquainted. She seems agitated, and, in answer to their questions, informs them a man has just been arrested who is worth five
thousand of them all. This statement rouses their curiosity to such a pitch that she has to explain how Claudio has just been sent to prison by the
duke's deputy, who has suddenly revived an old law condemning seducers to death. While there is no doubt of Claudio's guilt, the law not having
been enforced for the past nineteen years, no one anticipated it would ever be called into play. Dismayed by these tidings, the three gentlemen
hurry away, while the woman hails her servant Pompey, who breathlessly reports she has heard aright, — for Claudio is arrested, with Juliet his
victim, — and further pursuit of their nefarious business is prohibited.

It is at this moment that the provost passes, escorting his two prisoners to jail. When Claudio objects to being thus exposed to public view, the
provost rejoins he is acting by Lord Angelo's orders, and the young man bitterly realises how 'the demigod Authority makes us pay down for our
offence.' A moment later, he is accosted by Lucio and the two gentlemen, who hasten up inquiring why he is in custody. Without trying to gloss
over his wrongdoing, Claudio explains how Juliet was betrothed to him, and that, had not her relatives wished to use her dower money for
trading, their marriage could have taken place and the present catastrophe have been averted. Unable to marry immediately, the impatient lovers
met secretly, as is betrayed by Juliet's condition. Still, it is plain the new deputy is using his authority to make his power felt, since he has just
revived this long disregarded law.

When Lucio suggests that an appeal be made to the duke, Claudio rejoins he has vainly tried to do so, but that the ruler has vanished, leaving no
trace. His last hope is that his sister Isabella will intercede in his behalf, so he beseeches Lucio to hasten off to the convent where she is a novice,
acquaint her with his peril, and implore her to use her influence with the governor to secure his pardon. Promising to fulfill this request, Lucio
hurries off in one direction, while the officers lead away their prisoners in the other.

We next behold a monastery outside of Vienna, where the duke assures Friar Thomas he is asking for shelter and disguise, merely so as to
circulate through the streets of Vienna unrecognised, and ascertain how his substitute is executing the laws. The duke sadly adds he is to blame
for many of the disorders, because he feared, by enforcing certain laws, to forfeit the love of his people. Nevertheless, seeing crime flourish, he
realises it is imperative to check it, and bring the people back to virtuous ways. He has, therefore, appointed Angelo, a man of merit, as his
substitute, but wishes to make sure he is all he seems, and that the exercise of power will not change his character.

The next scene is played in the nunnery, where Isabella, talking to a sister, inquires what privileges are granted to nuns. The answers she receives
cause her to exclaim conventual restraint is not nearly so severe as she anticipated, just as a man's voice is heard without clamouring for
admittance. Bidding Isabella take the key and open the door (because she, as a professed nun, cannot speak to a man), the sister withdraws,
leaving the young novice to open. Isabella thus finds herself face to face with Lucio, who breathlessly inquires for 'the fair sister to her unhappy
brother, Claudio.' These words so startle Isabella that she asks why Claudio is unhappy, ere she thinks of saying she is the person he seeks. When
Lucio states her brother is in prison for seduction, Isabella fancies at first he is mocking her, but when the messenger reiterates this statement,
naming the lady in trouble, Isabella cries her brother should atone for his crime by marrying Juliet immediately. Then Lucio explains how the
duke's substitute proposes to enforce a long disregarded law by making an example of Claudio, and that the only way to save him is to try and
soften Angelo's heart by her entreaties. Frightened by the imminent danger of her beloved brother, Isabella promises to do all she can in his
behalf, sending word to Claudio that she will let him know how she speeds, and delaying only long enough to inform the Superior of her
intentions.

Act II
The second act opens in Angelo's house, where he and the counsellor sit in state rendering justice, and where Angelo virtuously states 'we must
not make a scarecrow of the law, setting it up to fear the birds of prey, and let it keep one shape, till custom make it their perch and not their
terror.' The counsellor, knowing he is referring to Claudio's case, nevertheless pleads in behalf of the youth, whose family he knows. When he
ventures to remind the governor that, exposed to similar temptations, they might have fallen in the same way, Angelo sanctimoniously rejoins,
''Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, another thing to fall.' Then, determined the law shall be executed to the letter, he reiterates Claudio must
die, and, calling for the provost, bids him provide the culprit with a confessor to prepare for 'the utmost of his pilgrimage,' and see that the
execution take place at nine o'clock on the morrow. The provost having departed to carry out these orders, the counsellor hopes Heaven will
forgive the governor and them all, as it seems a pity a youth should be condemned for one fault only, since 'some rise by sin, and some by virtue
fall.'

It is at this juncture a constable ushers in Pompey and another youth, whom he reports having arrested as 'notorious benefactors,' for he constantly
misuses words in this way. His report in regard to the prisoners proves so long-winded that Angelo goes away, bidding Escalus try the case and
whip the offenders if guilty. The counsellor, therefore, continues the examination, and, being inclined to leniency, dismisses both hardened and
punning sinners with a reprimand, warning them they will be liable to all the severity of the law should they relapse into evil ways. The accused
dismissed, Escalus interviews the constable, and, finding he has held office many years in succession, bids him select a substitute. Then, inviting
the judge to dinner, Escalus leaves, still shaking his head over Claudio's sentence, although he knows severity is needful, for 'mercy is not itself,
that oft looks so; pardon is still the nurse of second woe.'

In another room of the same house, a servant informs the provost that Angelo is trying a case, but will soon appear. This man having gone, the
provost expresses a hope Angelo may relent, just as his superior enters the apartment. When he diffidently inquires whether Claudio must die,
remarking that judges have repented of sentences when too late, he discovers repentance is far from the heart of Angelo, who sternly orders him
to do his office or relinquish his place! Not daring offer further objections, the provost humbly inquires what he is to do with Juliet, whose time of
trial is drawing near. After giving the necessary directions in regard to her custody, Angelo is informed by a servant the sister of the condemned
man begs for an audience. Surprised to think Claudio has a sister (whom the provost describes as a virtuous lady shortly to be admitted into a
sisterhood), Angelo orders his visitor admitted, and repeats his orders in regard to the culprits.

The opening door now admits Isabella and Lucio, just as Angelo bids the provost assist at this interview. In touching terms Isabella declares that,
although she abhors one vice above all the rest, she must plead for its forgiveness, seeing it is her brother who is condemned to die. She,
therefore, beseeches the governor to punish the fault, yet let the culprit live, her plea being supported by muttered encouragements from the
provost. But when Angelo sternly rejoins that a fault cannot be condemned without the doer, poor Isabella, deeming her prayers vain, recognises
it is a just but severe law, and sighs she had a brother.

She is about to turn away in despair, when Lucio softly admonishes her not to give up, but kneel and implore, exclaiming that if she needed a pin
she could not 'with more tame a tongue desire it.' Thus encouraged, Isabella again inquires whether her brother must really die and entreats the
judge to make use of his unlimited authority to pardon Claudio. Although admitting he could do so, Angelo insists sentence has been pronounced,
and that it is too late to recall it. Still urged by Lucio, Isabella pleads eloquently in favour of mercy, saying, 'not the king's crown, nor the deputed
sword, the marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, become them with one-half so good a grace as mercy does.' She also sadly reminds the
governor that if her brother 'had been as you and you as he, you would have slipt like him; but he, like you, would not have been so stern.'

Although Angelo turns his back upon her, Isabella continues to entreat, her prayers being prompted by Lucio, who softly urges her to keep them
up. She, therefore, does so, even after Angelo repeats her brother ' is a forfeit of the law,' and that her words are wasted. When he baldly states
Claudio shall die on the morrow, Isabella wails her brother is not prepared for death, adding that, even 'for our kitchens we kill the fowl of
season: shall we serve heaven with less respect than we do minister to our gross selves?' Then she urges that Claudio be at least granted time to
repent, gently reminding Angelo that, although many have been guilty of similar offences, none have died for it heretofore. Although this
argument seems pertinent to Lucio, Angelo rejoins 'the law hath not been dead, though it hath slept,' and that, had it only been rigidly enforced
from the beginning, no such disorders would have ensued as prevail at present in Vienna.

Implored in spite of this logic to show mercy, Angelo insists he can best do so by enforcing justice, and reiterates Claudio must die, although
Isabella reminds him he is the first to pronounce so cruel a sentence, and her brother the first to feel its weight. Egged on by secret signs from
Lucio and the provost, Isabella urges that a man in authority should make use of that power mercifully, that gods never waste their thunders on
small offences, and that it is only the man 'drest in a little brief authority' who inclines to undue severity. Both Lucio and the provost subscribe to
this, and, as they covertly sign to her to keep it up, she begs the governor to exercise Christian charity, remembering it is not right to 'weigh our
brother with ourself,' and imploring him to look down in his own heart, and see whether he has always been free from sin. By this time, her
beauty and emotion have produced so vivid an impression upon Angelo that he has fallen in love with her, but he yields to his passion only
enough to bid her call again on the morrow, when he may have a different answer to give her. Delighted with this slight concession, Isabella
rapturously cries she will 'bribe' him, and, when Angelo indignantly inquires how, declares not with gold or precious stones, but with fervent
prayers in his behalf.

Then, overjoyed at having obtained a reprieve, Isabella retires with Lucio, while Angelo acknowledges 'I am that way going to temptation, where
prayers cross.' Left alone, he next marvels that a man, who has never felt the attraction of women before, should succumb now, and wonders
whether 'modesty may more betray our sense than woman's lightness?' He realises, however, that he has granted Isabella a second interview
merely for the pleasure of seeing once more the spotless maiden, who has made a deeper impression upon his heart than he ever felt before.
We next behold the prison, in which the duke enters, disguised as a friar, and telling the provost he has come to visit, the prisoners. So as to
minister intelligently to their needs, he inquires the nature of their offences; and, seeing Juliet pass, the provost points her out as one of the
victims of the recently enforced seduction law. On learning a young man is to die on the morrow on this charge, the friar questions Juliet, only to
discover that, loving and truly beloved, she feels no remorse for her sin, but is ready 'to take her shame with joy.'

After dismissing her with his blessing, the friar visits the prisoner who is to die on her account, while Juliet bewails her lover's fate as the provost
leads her off the scene.

We are now transferred to a room in Angelo's house, where he is debating whether to yield to Isabella's solicitations, for the temptation which
assails him prevents his seeking aid in prayer as usual. It is while he is soliloquising on this subject that a servant announces the arrival of
Isabella, whom Angelo eagerly orders admitted alone. When the man has gone, he wonders why his blood rushes so madly to his head, and why
his feelings are in such a turmoil. Next Isabella enters, humbly inquiring what he has decided, and Angelo repeats her brother cannot live; then,
seeing she pretends to misunderstand him, he baldly states Claudio must die under his sentence. When the sister pleads for time for preparation,
Angelo sternly refuses further reprieve, holding forth virtuously against the heinous sin which Claudio has committed. Hearing Isabella timidly
rejoin it is not considered as unpardonable a crime on earth as in heaven, the governor sternly demands whether she would be willing to rescue
her brother at the cost of her chastity. Then, as she exclaims nothing would induce her so to risk her soul, he artfully hints there might be charity
in such a sin, a suggestion she does not understand.

After wringing from her an agonised admission that she would sacrifice anything to save her brother, Angelo plainly informs her he will pardon
Claudio, provided she grant a sinful favour. Thinking he is testing her virtue, Isabella, at first, shows only surprise, but when he assures her such
is not the case, she indignantly threatens to denounce him, unless he sign her brother's pardon immediately. Angelo, who, this time, has shrewdly
provided for an interview without witnesses, haughtily assures her she is at his mercy, as no one would believe her word against his. Then he
cruelly adds that unless she yield, her brother shall 'die the death,' giving her only twenty-four hours wherein to decide. Watching him disappear
after pronouncing this ultimatum, Isabella wildly wrings her hands, wondering where she can find aid and redress, for she is torn both ways, and
suffers agony for the sake of the brother whom, nevertheless, she cannot rescue at the cost of her virtue.

Act III
We now return to the prison, where the disguised duke is talking with Claudio, who confided to him he still hopes for pardon. The friar advises
him, however, to prepare for death, so Claudio, deeming his interlocutor the holy man he seems, bespeaks his aid. With due humility he listens to
the sermon the duke preaches on the worthlessness of life and the necessity of repentance — an eloquent speech for which Claudio has barely
expressed thanks, — when his sister demands admittance. It is while stepping out to make room for the newcomer, that the friar whispers to the
provost to place him where he can see and hear this interview unnoticed.

Meantime, brother and sister forget him, Claudio being eager to learn what comfort Isabella brings. When she gravely tells him, 'Lord Angelo,
having aifairs to heaven, intends you for his swift ambassador,' he understands hope is vain. To his despairing inquiry whether no remedy can be
found, Isabella refuses an answer, until she has ascertained he is brave enough to die should things come to the worst. It is only when duly
assured of his physical courage, that she dares impart Angelo's alternative, which Claudio cannot credit, such is the governor's reputation for
virtue. When convinced, however, his first impulse is to vow she shall not make such a sacrifice for his sake, but soon after the fear of death
seizes him so sorely that he begins to argue that a sin committed for another's sake is less heinous than one indulged in for self-gratification.
Finally, confessing he is afraid to die and go, 'we know not where,' he beseeches Isabella to save him at any cost. Although his description of
what might befall his disembodied spirit is so ghastly that she shudders, Isabella maintains nothing could excuse wrongdoing on her part, and
chides Claudio for asking her to forfeit her soul for his sake. In her righteous indignation, she bids him die if necessary, promising to pray for him
dead, but refusing sin for him living. Then, as he continues to plead, she concludes he is a man hardened to sin, to whom mercy would prove
injurious, and that hence it is best he should die!

It is at this moment the disguised duke reappears, expressing a desire to confer with Isabella, who steps aside to await his pleasure. Meanwhile,
turning to Claudio, the friar states he has overheard what his sister has said, and feels confident Angelo has merely been testing her virtue. He
further assures the prisoner that as no hope of pardon remains, he had better make his peace with heaven as quickly as possible. Thus recalled to
better sentiments, Claudio humbly begs his sister's pardon, and promises to leave life without regret. Next the provost leads him away, leaving the
friar, as requested, alone with the grieving sister.

Addressing Isabella, the holy man gravely states 'the hand that made you fair, made you good,' and adds he would wonder at Angelo's proposals,
were he not aware that 'frailty hath examples for his falling.' When he asks what steps she means to take to save her brother, Isabella sadly replies
she will tell Angelo it is better Claudio should die by law, than her son 'be unlawfully born,' adding that, as soon as the duke returns, she will
reveal to him how sorely he was mistaken in his choice. While approving of this decision, the friar rejoins that if Isabella will follow his advice,
meantime, she can right a wronged lady, redeem her brother from death while remaining stainless, and please the absent duke. Such a proposal
amazes Isabella, who declares she has 'spirit to do anything that appears not foul.' Hearing this, the friar asks whether she ever heard of Mariana,
a lady so solemnly betrothed to Angelo six years ago that the contract was equivalent to a marriage. He adds that, having lost brother and dower
in a shipwreck shortly before the nuptial ceremony, this lady was repudiated by Angelo, under pretext he had discovered matters reflecting upon
her honour. When the friar adds that she still mourns the loss of her lover, and that Isabella can, if she chose, bring Mariana and her plighted
husband together once more, the maiden gladly volunteers her services, provided he will point out what she is to do. Thereupon the holy man bids
Isabella accept Angelo's proposals, and appoint a midnight tryst, which Mariana will keep in her stead, an action he deems no sin, since they are
formally plighted. Meantime, he proposes to betake himself to the 'moated grange,' where this 'dejected Mariana' dwells, so as to prepare her to
play her part in deceiving Angelo.
While Isabella hastens away comforted, the friar, in the street before the prison, encounters the constable with Pompey, whom the counsellor
recently pardoned, but who has again infringed the law. After questioning culprit and official, the friar discovers this man is an inveterate sinner
and punster, just as Lucio joins them, inquiring why Pompey is under arrest. A frequenter of the house where Pompey serves, Lucio indulges in
doubtful jokes with him, ere he is taken away. Then, under pretext of giving the news, Lucio informs the friar that the duke has been reported in
various places, and that Angelo is ruling wisely in his absence, although a little more lenity might become his office.

In reply to this statement, the friar explains Angelo is fighting against a vice so prevalent that only severity can cure it. But when Lucio remarks
the governor is not made of the same stuff as other men, and that even the duke was not impeccable, the friar coldly contradicts him. Pretending
to know many doubtful things about his master, Lucio continues his tales, protesting meanwhile he loves the duke dearly, and knows what he is
talking about. Threatening to report these calumnies, the friar, after answering a few questions in regard to Claudio, watches Lucio out of sight,
and then comments there is 'no might nor greatness in mortality can censure 'scape; black wounding calumny the whitest virtue strikes,' for he is
conscious of being innocent of the crimes of which he has been so jauntily accused.

While the friar is thus soliloquising, the counsellor appears with the provost and officers, to order Mistress Overdone to prison, because, in spite
of repeated admonitions, she still infringes the law. When the officers have led the protesting prisoner away, the counsellor sadly informs the
provost Claudio will have to die, as Angelo refuses to yield to any intercession. He seems pleased, however, to hear that the friar, — to whom he
is introduced, — has visited this poor prisoner, and has given him the benefit of his ministrations. During the ensuing conversation, hearing the
friar ask whether the duke was really inclined to pleasure as Lucio hinted, the counsellor warmly testifies in favour of his morality. Then, satisfied
that Claudio is in a proper frame of mind to die, he goes off to pay him a last visit, accompanied by the friar's blessing.

Left alone upon the stage, the friar concludes that 'he who the sword of heaven will bear should be as holy as severe,' and that Angelo should be
ashamed to punish others for sins to which he is secretly inclined. He adds that, applying 'craft against vice,' Angelo shall be tricked this very
night into receiving the betrothed he despised, and thus compelled to 'perform an old contracting.'

Act IV
The fourth act opens in the 'moated grange,' where Mariana is languidly listening to a love-song, which she interrupts as soon as she notices the
approach of the 'man of comfort.' When the friar enters, he finds Mariana in a less merry mood than the sounds would imply, so exclaims that
'music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.' Then, he inquires whether any one has asked for him, and, seeing
Isabella draw near, begs Mariana to go away for a while, and let him converse privately with the stranger. As soon as Mariana is out of earshot,
the friar inquires whether Isabella has successfully performed her part, and learns how Angelo has appointed as trysting-place a garden, for which
he has given her the key, bidding her meet him there at midnight. When the friar questions whether she can find her way in the dark, Isabella
explains how Angelo twice led her over every turn, how she warned him a servant would accompany her, — for she is supposed to be pleading
for a brother's life, — and how, for that reason, their interview would have to be brief. Satisfied with these arrangements, the friar summons
Mariana, and, introducing Isabella, bids her listen attentively to this lady's proposals, as they have his full sanction and approval.

The ladies having gone off together, the friar spends the time of waiting in meditating upon greatness. Before long Isabella returns, triumphantly
proclaiming that since he sanctions the plan, Mariana will help them. Then, she reminds her companion not to speak, and only on leaving to
whisper softly 'remember now my brother.' Thus schooled, Mariana promises to play her part, the friar again assuring her this act will be sinless,
as Angelo is her husband by pre-contract.

We are now transferred to a room in the prison, where the provost offers Pompey pardon, provided he will act as assistant to the executioner, who
is summoned to teach the new candidate his duties. The conversation between these men proves lengthy but uninteresting, and, as soon as they
leave the stage, Claudio appears and is shown his death-warrant by the provost. Then this official asks for Bernardine, who, instead of repenting,
spends all his time drinking, and sends Claudio back to his cell, hoping a reprieve may yet arrive.

Just then a knock is heard at the door, and the provost admits the friar, who seems surprised to learn Isabella has not been seen since curfew. He
adds that there are faint hopes of saving Claudio, news the provost eagerly welcomes, before hurrying out to answer a second knock. When he
returns, the friar eagerly asks whether this was the reprieve, only to be told no such order has come, to the provost's despair.

It is at this juncture that Angelo's messenger arrives, and delivers a paper with injunctions that its orders be carried out immediately. The friar
deems this the pardon just purchased by Isabella, until the provost reads it aloud when he discovers that Bernardine and Claudio are both to be
executed, the latter's head being sent to the governor in token the deed is done. The provost seems horrified, but when the friar asks about
Bernardine, describes him as a hardened criminal and persistent drinker. After admitting such a man deserves death, the friar suggests
Bernardine's head be sent to Angelo instead of Claudio's, a substitution to which the provost consents only after the friar has exhibited a letter,
signed and sealed by the duke, which accredits him fully.

In another room in the jail, Pompey is commenting on his past life, when the executioner enters, bidding him prepare to behead Bernardine. This
prisoner is then brought in, too drunk to do more than stammer he is not fit for execution, a patent fact, as the friar confirms. Bernardine is,
therefore, sent back to his cell, just as the provost announces that a notorious pirate has died in prison, whose hair and beard are of the same
colour as Claudio's, and whose head can, therefore, easily be substituted for that of the young man. Concluding this death is providential, the friar
orders the pirate's head sent to Angelo, while Claudio and Bernardine are confined in a secret dungeon, where they are to remain until the duke's
return.

The provost having gone to carry out these orders, the friar murmurs he will write to Angelo, announcing his master's return home, and bidding
him meet the duke outside of the city to escort him home. While he is thus deciding, the provost passes through the room, with the head he is
bearing to Angelo. Just as he goes out, Isabella comes in, and the friar hastily decides to keep her ignorant of his interference, giving her
'heavenly comforts of despair, when it is least expected.' When she, therefore, breathlessly inquires whether the deputy has sent her brother's
pardon, she is gravely informed her brother is released from all earthly pain, and his head on its way to Angelo. Incredulous at first, Isabella,
overcome with grief, finally raves she will pluck out Angelo's eyes. Thereupon the friar bids her be patient, adding that, if she conforms to his
advice, she will be able to seek redress from the duke on the morrow, on the very spot where the counsellor and Angelo are to meet him. In case
she follow his instructions he promises revenge and rehabilitation, bidding her, meanwhile, carry a letter to Friar Peter, whom she will find at
Mariana's house, ready to assist them both. As Isabella is about to leave, Lucio enters, assuring her he shares her grief for her beloved brother,
and that, had the duke only been in Vienna, Claudio would never have perished.

When Isabella has gone, another short conversation takes place between Lucio and the friar in the course of which the young man again taxes his
master with loose morals, revealing, incidentally, that he himself is guilty of a sin, which the friar duly notes.

We now behold a room in Angelo's house, where he and the counsellor discuss letters recently received from the duke, but which contradict each
other. Angelo is amazed that the last missive should summon him to meet his superior outside the town and to proclaim that any one with a
grievance against him shall immediately make it known. Although the counsellor suggests the duke takes these measures merely to free them
from further responsibility, Angelo, — whose conscience is uneasy, — expresses his doubts in a soliloquy after the counsellor's departure. Still,
he comforts himself with the belief that no maid would have the hardihood to confess her shame, and feels safe because he has done away with
Isabella's brother, the only person who could have called him to account for dishonouring her.

We next see fields outside of town, where the duke in person delivers letters which Friar Peter is to carry to the provost. After the friar has gone,
the duke summons his attendants to escort him to the appointed tryst. Meantime, in a street near the city gate, Isabella and Mariana are preparing,
by Friar Peter's directions, to fall at the duke's feet, and denounce Angelo. While Isabella seems doubtful, Mariana, full of confidence in her
spiritual adviser, implores her to obey; so Isabella concludes at last to do so, saying philosophically, ''tis a physic that's bitter to sweet end.' They
are still debating when joined by Friar Peter, who urges them to hasten to the gate, as the trumpets have already twice sounded, and the duke is
about to appear.

Act V
The fifth act opens at the city gate, just as the duke is formally welcomed by Angelo and Escalus, whom, in recognition of their good offices, he
places on either side of him, for the remainder of the journey. It is at this moment that Friar Peter leads Isabella forward, and that, falling at the
duke's feet, she loudly calls for justice. With the grave assurance that Lord Angelo, here present, will see it is awarded her, the duke turns to
Isabella, who rejoins he bids her 'seek redemption of the devil,' and implores him to grant redress in person. Hearing this, Angelo, with pretended
good nature, whispers she is crazy, having vainly entreated him to spare a guilty brother's life. Isabella, however, interrupts this speech,
denouncing him as a murderer, and accusing him, besides, of having broken the commandments. Although the duke now compassionately orders
Isabella removed, she insists upon a hearing, talking so wildly that he first concludes she is insane, only to reverse this verdict when he discovers
her statements are coherent. They are, besides, supported by Lucio, the time-server, who, stepping forward, testifies he urged Isabella to plead
with Angelo for her brother's life. Thus the whole story of Angelo's guilt is divulged; but the duke, pretending to disbelieve it, orders Isabella off
to prison for slandering so worthy an official as the immaculate Angelo.

Perceiving he can do an ill turn to one he hates on account of his virtue, Lucio, who overheard the friar advise Isabella to claim justice, suggests
this is all the fault of a man who spoke in so evil a way of the duke that had it not been for his cloth, he would have chastised him. When Friar
Peter exclaims this cannot be true, Lucio insists so vehemently, that the friar says his companion will soon be vindicated and Isabella proved a
liar. Meanwhile, Isabella is led away, and Mariana advances in her turn to fall at the duke's feet. She remains veiled, however, saying she has
vowed not to reveal her countenance until bidden to do so by her husband. In her next breath, however, she admits being neither maid, wife, nor
widow, statements so contradictory, that the duke questions her closely, amid many forward interruptions on Lucio's part. Before long he hears
Mariana testify that Angelo, while he fancied he was betraying Isabella, consorted with his own wife. At these words, Angelo bids Mariana
remove her veil, which she immediately does, expressing great readiness to obey her lawful spouse. Then, with face exposed, she explains how
she took Isabella's place, whereupon Angelo remarks that since both women claim he dishonoured them at the same time, the falsity of their
accusation is palpable, and that he begs permission to settle the case in person. This favour the duke readily grants, appointing Escalus as his
assistant, and ordering that the friar, who advised these two women so unwisely, be summoned to answer for his conduct.

The duke now excuses himself for a while, leaving his deputies to judge this knotty point. After questioning Lucio, who repeats the monk spoke
villainously of the duke, the counsellor sends for Isabella, whom he suspects of having been suborned by the wicked friar to make this wanton
accusation against Angelo. The provost soon returns, accompanied by his prisoner and the duke, who has, meantime, resumed his friar habit. The
trial proceeds, the counsellor experiencing great difficulty in silencing Lucio, who constantly interjects impudent or scurrilous remarks.

Turning to the friar, the counsellor first inquires whether it is he who egged the women on. Although the friar admits having done so, he asks why
the duke is not present, saying he does not approve of leaving the 'trial in the villain's mouth.' Such a statement sounds so disrespectful, that
Escalus threatens torture, until the friar tells him that, not being a subject of the duke, he is beyond reach of the law. He adds that his 'business in
this state' made him 'a looker-on here in Vienna,' where he has 'seen corruption boil and bubble,' a statement viewed as such slander that the
counsellor orders him taken to prison. Then, the forward Lucio boldly exclaims he deserves double punishment for speaking ill of the duke.
Although the friar protests it was Lucio, himself, who uttered these calumnies, he is hustled out of the room, his accuser lending a hand so
officiously that he jerks off the friar's cowl, thus revealing to all present that the duke has been among them in disguise.

Turning to his subjects, the duke now orders Lucio arrested, forgives the counsellor for his well-meant severity, and bids Angelo clear himself
immediately, or suffer the penalty of his wrath. Seeing all is discovered, Angelo exclaims his confession will be his trial, and he will sentence
himself to death. Then the duke summons Mariana, and, hearing she was legally betrothed to Angelo, bids friar Peter lead them both away, and
celebrate the religious marriage, ere be bring them back to the ball While they are absent, the counsellor expresses surprise, and the duke, turning
to Isabella, says she probably wonders why he did not use his authority to save Claudio. He adds that, although he fully intended doing so, 'the
swift celerity of his death,' 'brain'd his purpose.' He is just remarking that life, 'past fearing death,' is better than a life of fear here below, when
Angelo and Mariana are ushered in, their marriage having meanwhile been completed. Addressing Angelo, the duke decrees that, although he has
now righted Mariana, there should be 'measure for measure,' and that, having cruelly sentenced to death a man for the crime he himself
committed, he deserves the same penalty.

At these words the new-made bride falls at the duke's feet, pleading for her husband's life, although he coldly informs her it is vain, and says she
shall have all Angelo's wealth to enable her to purchase a better spouse. As her prayers prove futile, Mariana calls upon Isabella to aid her, in
spite of the fact that the duke reminds her it is rash to ask for the intervention of one Angelo cruelly wronged. Touched by Mariana's sorrow,
however, Isabella kneels and pleads for Angelo's life, saying her brother, 'in that he did the thing for which he died,' perished justly, and
reminding the duke that, as Angelo's 'act did not o'ertake his bad intent,' his life can be spared. Instead of answering the two suppliants, the duke
demands how it happened that Claudio was beheaded at an unusual hour, and is informed it was by special order. On account of this infraction of
the law, the provost is relieved of office, whereupon he immediately confesses having been guilty of another illegal act, that of sparing a
prisoner's life. When the duke inquires this man's name, the provost replies it is Bemardine, whom he is bidden produce immediately. During his
absence, the counsellor, too, intercedes for Angelo, who, however, consumed with shame and remorse, craves 'death more willingly than mercy,'
knowing how amply he has deserved it.

It is at this moment the provost ushers in Bernardine, who is followed by two muffled figures. Addressing Bernardine, the duke declares, as the
friar pronounced him unfit to die, he has decided to pardon him, in hopes he may repent before leaving this world. Then, the provost brings
forward one of the muffled figures, saying he is 'almost as like Claudio as himself.' Bidding Isabella look at him, the duke states that if this youth
resembles her brother, he will pardon Angelo. Meantime, Angelo has perceived, with relief, that his wicked intentions have been frustrated, and
that the man whom he deemed slain still lives. Such is his relief, and humbled, repentant mood, that when the duke bids him live and love his
wife, he gratefully promises to do so. Addressing Lucio, the duke publicly reveals his depravity, decreeing that, for slandering him he shall be
whipped, and that, after having made such redress as lies in his power for the crime he committed, he shall be duly hanged. Then, having given
Lucio this wholesome scare, the merciful duke remits all punishments, — save atonement for his crime, — and Lucio is led away, still punning,
for nothing is sacred in his eyes.

Turning to Claudio, the duke gravely bids him indemnify Juliet for all she has suffered, wishes long life and joy to Mariana, congratulates the
counsellor upon his blameless conduct, and finally implores Isabella to grant him a hearing, declaring if she is willing to listen to his proposals,
'what's mine is yours, what's yours is mine.' Saying this, he escorts her back to the palace, bidding the rest follow, and promising to reveal 'what's
yet behind, that's meet you all should know.'

The Tempest: Plot Summary

Act 1, Scene 1

Act One opens amidst a great storm. A ship carrying King Alonso of Naples and his entourage, who are returning home from the wedding of the
King's daughter in Tunis, is tossed about by the powerful waves. As the Boatswain tries to keep the boat afloat, the King and two of his hot-
headed men, Antonio and Sebastian, come on deck to bark orders at the crew. The Boatswain does not have time to pander to the arrogant King
and his courtiers, so he is short with them. The men become enraged, verbally assaulting the boatswain as he tries to regain control of the
steering. Only the King's counsellor, Gonzalo, remains calm and collected as the ferocious wind splits the ship in half.

Act 1, Scene 2

On an island close by, Prospero, the right Duke of Milan, and his fifteen year-old daughter, Miranda, watch the wreck of the ship. The
compassionate Miranda is horrified by what she sees, but Prospero assures her that all the men on the ship will be safe. He reveals his role in the
shipwreck and his relationship to the men on board. He tells his daughter that he was once the Duke of Milan, and, as Duke, he spent most of his
time learning the art of magic. But, in Prospero's ambitious brother, Antonio, "awak'd an evil nature" (1.2.93), and he decided to overthrow
Prospero and claim the title of Duke for himself. Antonio received help from King Alonso, and together they removed Prospero from power and
placed him and Miranda, who was two at the time, in a boat and abandoned them at sea. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Gonzalo had given them
water, clothes, and other supplies, including Prospero's cherished books. Thus they were able to float for some time at sea, and eventually they
landed on the island that has become their permanent home. Now Fate has brought Prospero's enemies near him once again, and, through magic,
he admits to Miranda that he was responsible for the storm that brought his brother and the King to the island.

With matters now more pressing than Miranda's many questions, Prospero casts a spell to put her to sleep while he summons his servant, an airy
spirit named Ariel. Ariel tells his master that he has magically put the passengers in a trance and dispersed them about the island, ensuring that
the King's son, Ferdinand, is by himself, as instructed by Prospero. Ferdinand sits alone in mourning, believing that he is the sole survivor of the
crash. Tired from all the tasks Prospero has made him perform, Ariel complains "Is there more toil?" (242), but Prospero quickly reminds Ariel
that his "toil" is payment for Prospero rescuing him from imprisonment in a tree-trunk, at the hands of 'the foul witch Sycorax' (258) who is now
dead but once ruled the island with her magic. Prospero ensures Ariel that, if his current plans are successful, he will release him from his
obligations. He next instructs Ariel to make himself invisible to everyone but his master. Ariel flies away and Prospero awakens Miranda, telling
her that they are about to visit his other slave, Caliban, a disfigured and savage offspring of the dead witch, Sycorax. Despite Prospero's attempts
to tame him, Caliban has remained wide and barbaric, and has even attempted to rape Miranda. Prospero calls out to Caliban and, reluctantly, he
comes, complaining about his captivity. Prospero replies that he has every right to enslave Caliban, in payment for all the education and kindness
Prospero has given him. Caliban strikes back, proclaiming that he did not want to be educated by Prospero:
You taught me language; and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language! (425-7)
Prospero sends Caliban to gather wood, and Ferdinand wanders in with invisible Ariel behind him, playing and singing. Miranda sees Ferdinand
and immediately is captivated by his ravishing good looks. The feeling is mutual and Ferdinand falls in love with Miranda. Prospero, who has
hoped all along that his daughter would love Ferdinand is delighted. However, to ensure that Ferdinand is the right man for Miranda, he tests
Ferdinand's resolve and pretends to distrust the young man. Much to the dismay of Miranda, Prospero imprisons Ferdinand.

Act 2, Scene 1

On another part of the island, Gonzalo tries to comfort King Alonso, who believes that he has lost his only son, Ferdinand. The King's brother,
Sebastian, is not as comforting and he mocks Gonzalo's attempts to cheer up the King. Sebastian reminds the King that he had been advised not to
take the journey to Tunis in the first place, and thus he is directly responsible for all of their problems. Ariel arrives and magically puts everyone
to sleep except Antonio and Sebastian. Antonio suggests that they should kill the King as he sleeps and make Sebastian the new King of Naples.
Sebastian agrees, but just as they are about to draw their swords, Ariel awakens King Alonso and Gonzalo. Gonzalo sees the men with their
swords drawn and asks what they are doing. Sebastian makes up a lie that they heard "a hollow burst of bellowing" (316), that sounded like a
wild animal, and they were merely trying to protect their sleeping king. Believing their intentions were good, King Alonso thinks no more about
it and asks them to help in the search of Ferdinand. They agree and the scene comes to a close.

Act 2, Scene 2

Caliban has just finished chopping wood when he hears loud claps of thunder. This prompts him to soliloquize on his hatred of Prospero: "All the
infections that the sun sucks up/From bogs, fens, flats on Prospero fall, and make him by inchmeal a disease!" (1-3). He feels that Prospero has
filled the island with spirits to torment him for being late with the firewood. Trinculo, the court jester who has been travelling with the King,
approaches, and Caliban naturally assumes he is one of Prospero's spying spirits. Caliban falls to the ground, hoping that it will somehow help
him go unnoticed. Trinculo is looking for shelter, worried about the coming storm. He sees Caliban, lying flat on his face, and finds him very
interesting. He wishes he were in England so that he could put the monster he has discovered on display as a freak of nature. The thunder grows
closer and Trinculo finds it necessary, albeit unappealing, to crawl under Caliban's cloak for protection. In his now famous words, "Misery
acquaints a man with strange bedfellows!" (42). Another survivor of the shipwreck, a butler to the King named Stephano, appears. He washed
ashore on a barrel of wine and has since ingested its contents and is very drunk indeed. Seeing Trinculo and Caliban lying on the ground, he
thinks that they are a two-headed monster with four legs, indigenous to the island. Stephano gives Caliban the bit of wine he has left, hoping to
appease the horrid creature. Caliban cries out, "Do not torment me, prithee" (73) because he still believes the men are spirits sent by his master.
Trinculo gets up and is relieved to see his friend. The two dance to celebrate their reunion while Caliban, now drunk from his first taste of wine,
decides that Stephano will be his new master: "I'll kiss thy foot. I'll swear myself thy subject" (154). Stephano gladly accepts Caliban's offer and
they head off to see all the wonders of the island.

Act 3, Scene 1

Act Three opens with Ferdinand performing tasks against his will by his captor, Prospero. He tells himself that, although he is not use to such
hard labour, he actually likes the work because he knows that Miranda "weeps" when she sees him suffer. Miranda appears, followed by Prospero
who hides from their site. She offers to carry the logs for him but he refuses her help, insisting that he would rather break his back than see her
undergo "such dishonor" (27). They declare their love for one another and agree to be wed as soon as possible. Prospero is delighted by what he
is hearing and, now sure that Ferdinand is worthy of his daughter, he returns to his books and to his other pressing business with Antonio and the
King.

Act 3, Scene 2

The attention turns once again to Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo. Stephano is having trouble controlling Caliban, who hates Trinculo because he
continues to refer to Caliban as 'the monster'. Caliban proposes that together they overpower and kill Prospero, and steal his books and his
daughter. Stephano agrees to the plan, imagining himself as ruler over the island and the husband of Miranda. But Ariel has been listening to their
conversation and he rushes to tell Prospero.

Act 3, Scene 3

Meanwhile, King Alonso and his courtiers have been searching the island for Prince Ferdinand. Suddenly, magical creatures bring forth a banquet
and place the food in front of the hungry men. Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio run toward the feast, but just as they are about to eat, Ariel
appears, disguised as a harpy, and the table vanishes in a burst of thunder and lightning. Ariel accuses them of being sinful men and tells them
that just Fate has caused their shipwreck and taken Alonso's son away from him. He also tells them that they will be tormented until they change
their evil ways and lead "a clear life" (82). Ariel disappears and the mystical creatures again appear, dancing to the soft music that now fills the
air, and again carrying the table. The King decides to keep looking for his son and die along side of him, and Antonio and Sebastian follow him,
foolishly convinced that they can destroy the spirits on the island. Gonzalo, worried that they have gone mad, follows them, hoping to "hinder
them from what this ecstasy/May now provoke them to" (106-7).

Act 4, Scene 1

Prospero has consented to the union of Miranda and Ferdinand and now prepares a wedding masque for the two lovers. He cautions Ferdinand
not to "break her virgin knot" (15) until they are legitimately married. Soft music fills the air and three sprites pretending to be the goddesses, Iris,
Ceres, and Juno, descend to participate in the celebration. Other nymphs appear and they all dance and make merry. But the festivities are cut
short when the hear a "hollow and confused" noise coming from outside Prospero's dwelling. It is the sound of Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo,
still drunk and ready to kill Prospero. Prospero dismisses the sprites and tells Ferdinand and Miranda: "Our revels are now ended. These our
actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind. (163-77)
Prospero orders Ariel to bring out all his goods because he knows that Stephano and Trinculo will be enticed by the finery. Ariel enters once
again, his arms loaded with beautiful apparel. Prospero and Ariel watch in the shadows as Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo enter Prospero's cell,
and sure enough, they are distracted by the fine clothes. Stephano and Trinculo try them on, despite the pleading of Caliban who knows that
Prospero will catch them. From outside a noise of wild dogs are heard. Prospero has summoned the spirits of the island to take the shape of fierce
hunting hounds to chase the villains out of Prosper's cell. Comically the three men run screaming from the cell, and Prospero and Ariel remain.
Prospero tells Ariel that his enemies are now all at his mercy and that he will soon have freedom from the island.

Act 5, Scene 1

The final act opens three days after the great tempest that destroyed the boat. Prospero, clothed in his magic robes, hears a plea from Ariel on
behalf of the stranded men. Ariel reports that King Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio have gone mad, while Gonzalo suffers mental anguish as he
mourns for the victims. Prospero is moved by Ariel's words and decides that he will show them the mercy that they did not show him twelve
years ago. He sends Ariel to fetch the men, and in a soliloquy he reveals that, once he restores the sanity of his enemies, he will forever renounce
magic: "But this rough magic/I here abjure" (50-1). He breaks his magical staff, declares that he will drown his books, and exchanges his
magician's robes for the clothing he wore when he was the Duke of Milan. Amidst solemn music Ariel leads Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio,
Gonzalo, Adrian, and Francisco into Prospero's cell. They are in a trance and stand around a circle that Prospero has made. Prospero tells Ariel
that he is free from all further obligations, and that he will miss him when he returns to Milan. Prospero breaks the spell that holds the men and
Gonzalo is the first to speak: "Some heavenly power guide us/Out of this fearful country" (105-6).

Prospero identifies himself and Alonso, who has seen the error of his ways, repents and resigns the dukedom to Prospero. Alonso is reunited with
Ferdinand and he two fathers seal their peace with the marriage of their children. Alonso and Sebastian are not repentant, but they must comply
with the orders of the King to restore Prospero as Duke of Milan. Prospero forgives Antonio but does not reconcile with him, saying: "For you,
most wicked sir, whom to call brother/Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive thy rankest fault" (131-2). Ariel enters with the Boatswain and
the Master of the ship, and they report that, to their amazement, the boat has been fully restored and is ready to set sail. Ariel quickly fetches
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, who are still drunk, and Prospero confronts them. He tells Caliban that he can now be king of the island and
Caliban regrets ever thinking that Stephano was his master. He calls himself a "thrice-double ass" (296) for worshipping the dull fool. Prospero
invites the King and his courtiers to hear the story of his life on the island, as Ariel (as his final task for Prospero) prepares the proper sailing
weather to guide Prospero back to Italy.

Twelfth Night: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I

The play opens in a palace in Illyria, where the Duke and his court are listening to a concert, of which one song particularly appeals to the august
listener, who is in love. When the music ceases and the courtiers inquire whether their master will hunt, the Duke, still full of his own idea,
sentimentally compares himself to Actason, who fell in love with Diana, saying his desires for the Countess Olivia pursue him as cruelly as the
hounds did that mythical swain.

It is at this moment that his messenger returns, reporting his lady-love has decided to remain in seclusion for seven years, so as to mourn the
death of her beloved brother. On hearing that Olivia intends not to appear unveiled during this period, the Duke exclaims that a woman displaying
such affection for a brother would prove indeed a devoted wife.

We are next transported to the seashore, where shipwrecked Viola is questioning her rescuer in regard to the coast upon which she has been cast,
and the likelihood of her twin brother's escape from the waves. To quiet her apprehensions, the seaman describes how Sebastian lashed himself to
a mast and drifted safely out of sight, tidings so welcome that Viola gives him a reward.

In answer to further questions, she learns that Illyria is ruled by Duke Orsino, a friend of her father, still unmarried, although he has long wooed
Countess Olivia, whose refusal to wed on account of a brother's loss touches Viola. At first the shipwrecked maiden expresses a desire to enter
the Countess' service, but Olivia's vow making that impossible, she decides, instead, to assume the guise of a page and serve the Duke. She,
therefore, bids the seaman procure her an outfit and introduction, sure that her many accomplishments will find favour. So thoroughly does the
mariner approve of this plan, that he not only promises to guard Viola's secret, but leads her away to prepare for her venture.

We are now transferred to Olivia's house, where the Maid is taking to task this lady's uncle, Sir Toby, for coming home late at night and for
drinking. Although Sir Toby vehemently protests, the Maid declares such courses will injure him, adding that the foolish knight he recently
introduced to her mistress is worse than himself. This Sir Toby denies, claiming Sir Andrew is a musician and linguist as well as a man of means,
and when the Maid tartly retorts that his advantages are more than counterbalanced by his dissipated habits, he painstakingly explains his friend is
drunk because he too frequently toasts his lovely niece.

The suitor in question now appears and is rapturously greeted by Sir Toby, but his wits are so clouded that he fails to understand his hint to
conciliate the Maid. She therefore pertly remarks, when he finally offers her his hand, that there is nothing in it; thereby showing a gratuity would
have been far more acceptable than tardy condescension.

The Maid having gone, the men converse, Sir Andrew coming to the conclusion that his slow comprehension is due not to strong drink, but to a
too great indulgence in meat. When he hears, therefore, that Olivia is withdrawing from the world, he wishes to return home immediately, but Sir
Toby induces him to remain a little longer and exhibit his talents as a dancer, as he may thereby perchance win the Countess' affections.

The next scene is played in the Duke's palace, where the page Cesario, Viola in disguise, is talking to a courtier, who warns him that, although he
has gained great influence at court in three days' time, he must not count upon the continuance of such favour. This warning has barely been
acknowledged by Cesario, when the Duke appears, calling for his page. When Cesario steps forward, the rest are bidden retire, and the Duke
proceeds to instruct the youth, who has already become his confidant, to visit Olivia, not returning until he has been admitted to plead his master's
cause.

When Cesario timidly objects that the lady admits no one, the Duke urges him to make use of his almost womanly tact to further his master's suit,
promising to make his fortune, should he succeed. Thus admonished, Cesario volunteers to do his best, exclaiming in an aside, however, that this
will prove a hard task, as 'Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.'

When the curtain again rises, we see a room in Olivia's house where her Maid and Clown are conversing, the former receiving ridiculous replies
to all her questions. Exasperated by the Clown's evasions, the Maid finally bids him prepare a suitable excuse, saying his irate mistress will soon
appear. Thus warned, the Clown tries to collect his scattered wits, coming to the conclusion that it is better to be 'a witty fool than a foolish wit,'
just as Olivia enters with her steward, Malvolio. The mistress shows her displeasure by immediately ordering the Clown removed, whereupon,
pretending to misunderstand her, he makes witty speeches, offering at last to demonstrate she is the 'fool' she calls him, provided she will answer
a few questions. Olivia expressing willingness to do so, the Clown makes her confess she is mourning the death of a brother, whose soul she
indignantly declares is in heaven when the Fool opines that it must be in hell. On hearing this, the Clown promptly retorts that none but a fool
would mourn because a relative enjoyed heavenly bliss! Olivia's admiration for this clever deduction irritates Malvolio, who contemptuously
exclaims he cannot see how she can put up with such a rascal, a remark savouring so strongly of conceit, that his mistress vows he is so 'sick of
self-love,' that he cannot bear to hear any one else praised.

It is at this juncture that the maid reappears, announcing that some one is asking for the Countess. On hearing that a handsome youth is at the
door, Olivia charges Malvolio to report her sick or not at home, as she is determined not to receive any more messages from the Duke. It is while
Olivia is reproving the Clown for some mischief, that her uncle passes across the scene, too tipsy to answer her questions properly, so, after he
has gone, Olivia makes the Clown define 'drunken man,' praising his definition as apt ere she dismisses him.

Then Malvolio returns reporting that the youth is so determined to speak to the Countess that he has found a witty retort to all excuses, retorts
which so arouse Olivia's curiosity that she soon orders him admitted. While Malvolio goes out to fetch the page, the maid shrouds her mistress in
the folds of a thick veil, so when Cesario is ushered in he is confronted by a veiled lady. Told to make his errand known, Cesario begins a set
speech, interrupting himself at the end of a few moments to inquire whether he is addressing the right person. In reply to Olivia's query whence
he comes, Cesario urges that is not part of his discourse, although he denies being the 'comedian' Olivia calls him. He admits, however, that he is
not what he seems, so Olivia, caring naught for his speech, ruthlessly interrupts his glib sentences.

In fact, his appearance so charms her that she finally grants him a private audience, although she pays no heed when he tries to tell her that the
text of his discourse lies in the Duke's bosom. A little later, when the page begs for a glimpse of her face, Olivia cannot refrain from showing the
youth, with whom she has fallen in love, how beautiful she is. She, therefore, raises her veil, assuring Cesario that the colours he sees are fast, and
her beauty ingrain. But, when the page exclaims that so lovely a woman should not go down to her grave without leaving children to perpetuate
her beauty, she is secretly pleased, although she disdainfully says her charms could easily be inventoried as ' two lips, indifferent red,' 'two grey
eyes, with lids to them,' 'one neck, one chin, and so forth.'

In reply to Olivia's question how the Duke shows his affection for her, the page replies, 'With adorations, fertile tears, with groans that thunder
love, with sighs of fire,' words which evidently fail to impress Olivia, as she coldly states she never will return his affections. Thereupon the
gallant page retorts that were he in his master's place he would accept no dismissal, but, camping before her gates, would call her name day and
night until he wearied her into acceptance! Unable to restrain amusement and curiosity, Olivia again inquires who Cesario may be, only to receive
the ambiguous reply that, although of gentle birth, his parentage is above his present fortunes. Again told to report to his master that his wooing is
vain, the page finally takes leave of Olivia, saying, 'Farewell, fair cruelty.'

After Cesario has gone, Olivia admits she has allowed his perfections to creep in at her eyes; then, feeling anxious to see more of him, she bids
Malvolio run after him, taking a diamond ring she pretends he left behind him, but with which she hopes to bribe Cesario to visit her once more.
The steward having departed to execute this commission, Olivia marvels at herself, concluding Fate will have to decide her lot, since she herself
knows not what to do.

Act II

The second act opens on the seashore, where a seaman, Antonio, is inquiring of Sebastian, Viola's twin brother, whether he wishes to be
accompanied further? Afraid lest the ill-fortune which has lately dogged his steps should injure his rescuer should they remain together, Sebastian
takes leave of the seaman, after describing the loss of his sister, who resembled him so closely that they differed in naught save garments and sex.
Sebastian's intention is to present himself before the Duke, whom Antonio wishes to avoid, as he once boarded a ducal vessel.

Cesario is trudging along the street on his way back to the palace, when he is overtaken by Malvolio, asking whether he has not recently been
with the Countess. The page admitting this, Malvolio delivers ring and message, only to have the jewel rejected. His orders being explicit,
however, the steward sternly places the ring on the ground, vowing unless the page picks it up it will become the prey of any finder.

When Malvolio has gone, Cesario shrewdly argues that Olivia has fallen in love with him, and is trying to bribe him with this gift. Although he
regrets being his master's rival in the lady's affections, he ascribes this conquest to his resemblance to his handsome brother, concluding, 'O time!
thou must un- tangle this, not I; it is too hard a knot for me to untie!'

We now return to Olivia's house, where Sir Toby and Sir Andrew are drinking, having come to the sage conclusion that by sitting up until after
midnight, they will keep early hours. Their conversation is interrupted by the Clown, whose nonsensical talk enlivens them, and who finally
favours them with a song of his own composition, wherein the line, 'Journeys end in lovers meeting,' is often quoted.

The noise made by the drinkers so annoys the Maid that she soon bounces in, saying the steward will turn them all out unless they are quieter.
This warning is hailed with such a clamour that Malvolio does appear, sternly requesting them to show more respect for his mistress, but, instead
of silencing the tipplers, his strictures excite them to mirth, and they swear to take their revenge when he leaves them.

On hearing them propose to send Malvolio a challenge, the Maid suggests a better scheme, so all agree to send him letters, purporting to have
been written by the Countess herself, and all tending to flatter his overweening vanity. This plan having won general approval, the Maid
volunteers to prepare the letters, as she can best imitate her mistress's handwriting.

The Duke is again in his palace, calling for the song which pleased him the night before, which Cesario strums on his instrument, while awaiting
the arrival of the singer. Meantime, the master inquires whether his page has ever been in love, assuming that unless he had experienced this
tender passion he could not so readily sympathise with his woes.
On seeking to discover the object of his page's affections, the Duke obtains an artful description of himself. Learning, therefore, that Cesario is
hopelessly enamoured of a person of his own age, the Duke exclaims such a sweetheart is far too old for him, and advises him to select some
younger person, because, 'Women are as roses, whose fair flower being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.'

The entrance of the singer interrupts this talk, but after he has rendered the song and received his reward, the Duke bids Cesario hasten back to
Lady Olivia, to tell her that, however large her fortune may be, it has never attracted him. When the page objects that the Countess refuses to
listen, the Duke insists upon his obtaining a more favourable answer, exclaiming, when Cesario suggests some one may love him as dearly and as
vainly as he does Olivia, that no woman could ever feel such passion as fills his heart.

Then Cesario gravely assures him that his father once had a daughter, who could love as deeply as any man, adding, when the Duke asks what
befell her, that ' She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought, and with a
green and yellow melancholy she sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.'

When the Duke wonders whether this faithful lady finally died of love, the page gives the ambiguous reply, 'I am all the daughters of my father's
house, and all the brothers, too,' before asking what message his master wishes him to carry. This readiness to serve so pleases the Duke, that he
sends Cesario forth with kindly words, bidding him bear a rich jewel to the obdurate Countess.

We now behold Olivia's garden, where Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and their friend Fabian, are discussing the trick they are planning to play upon
Malvolio. While they are still talking, the Maid rushes in to warn them that their letters are taking effect, for she has seen Malvolio practising
attitudes for the past half hour. She also reports that he is now on his way to the garden, where she drops her last letter, which is to complete their
work.

The Maid has vanished, and the three men are hiding behind bushes, when Malvolio strolls in, talking to himself in conceited fashion. This
soliloquy is accompanied by mocking comments from the hidden trio, who laugh when he talks of becoming a count, and fatuously dreams of the
time when Olivia will be won, and when, master of all her possessions, he will be able to call her kinsman to account for his drunken ways.

It is while complacently dwelling on such dreams of future bliss, that Malvolio suddenly finds the letter concocted to mislead him. Deeming both
writing and seal those of the Countess, Malvolio, unaware of a running accompaniment of jeers, reads this missive aloud, gravely deciding to
carry out all its instructions, for he is told therein, 'Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have
greatness thrust upon 'em!' It is only when Malvolio has gone, that the spectators reappear, delighted with the sport they have had, and
congratulating the Maid on the success of her trick.

Act III

The third act opens in Olivia's garden, where Cesario and the Clown are entertaining one another with conversation and music. After obtaining a
tip from the visitor, the Clown so fervently hopes he may soon have a beard, that Viola, who longs to call the bearded Duke her own, bestows
upon him a second coin. The page is too wary, however, to allow the Clown to trick him into a third donation, commenting, after he has gone
away, that a Fool's office is hardly enviable, seeing he must so closely 'observe their mood upon whom he jests.'

Cesario's soliloquy is interrupted by the arrival of Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, who, after exchanging greetings with him, report that Olivia awaits
him. It is just as Cesario is about to obey these summons, that this lady comes into the garden with her maid, and the grace of the page's address
so disconcerts Sir Andrew that he becomes madly jealous. After dismissing all the rest, Olivia questions Cesario, bidding him drop
complimentary phrases when he styles himself her servant. Thereupon the witty page immediately retorts that, his master being her lover and
slave, his servants are hers, too, a statement Olivia begs him never to repeat, hinting that, although she does not care for his master, she might
lend a more favourable ear, should he urge some other suit. It is while Cesario is reproaching Olivia for wasting affections on an unworthy object,
that a striking clock reminds her of the passing of time, so, after wringing from her visitor a second admission that he is not what he seems, Olivia
makes him a declaration of love. The embarrassed page thereupon replies that he has no affections to give her, vowing he will never again plead
his master's vain cause an announcement which fills Olivia's heart with dismay, as she fears he will cease to visit her. To insure seeing him again
she, therefore, mendaciously intimates that, if he persevere, his master may succeed in the end.

In the next scene Sir Andrew is just informing Sir Toby and Fabian that, having seen Olivia show greater favour to a page than to himself, he
feels obliged to depart. Both his friends, however, persuade him that the lady is trying to rouse his jealousy, and thus egg him on to fight the
objectionable Cesario. While Sir Andrew goes off to write a challenge, Sir Toby gloats over the amusement they are going to derive from a duel
between a man of no courage at all and a page anything but brave.

Just then the Maid rushes in, bidding them follow if they wish to see Malvolio carrying out the ridiculous instructions contained in her last letter.
Not willing to lose any of the diversion awaiting them, Sir Toby and Fabian eagerly obey her summons.

In a street in Illyria, we see Sebastian, Viola's twin, and his faithful henchman and rescuer, Antonio, and overhear the former chiding this sailor
for following him. To this reproach Antonio pleads guilty, saying he dares not let his young friend venture alone among so rough and
inhospitable a people. After thanking Antonio warmly for such devotion, Sebastian proposes they view together the curiosities of the town, an
invitation the sailor declines, deeming it best not to be seen abroad lest he be recognised and arrested. He, therefore, proposes to await his young
companion at the inn, leaving his purse with him under pretext that he may want to purchase some trifle ere they meet again.

We next behold Olivia's garden, where this fair lady is telling her maid she has sent for the page, but does not know how to entertain him. Next
she asks for Malvolio, who she is told is coming in strange attire, and behaving so queerly that he seems 'tainted in his wits.' A moment later the
steward appears, wearing yellow stockings cross-gartered, and behaving so unlike a respectable servant that his mistress is shocked. To carry out
instructions he thinks penned by her fair hand, Malvolio displays the utmost impudence, ogling Olivia, kissing his hand to her, and quoting whole
passages of the letters, until she charitably concludes he is afflicted with 'midsummer madness.'

As a servant now announces the arrival of the page, Olivia bids her maid summon her uncle to watch over the mad steward, ere she goes away.
Left alone, the fatuous Malvolio boasts 'nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes,' feeling sure Olivia is in
love with him, and that she is now giving him a chance to show his contempt for her kinsman. When the Maid, therefore, returns with Sir Toby
and Fabian, the conceited steward, then and there, treats his mistress's uncle with such insolence that, pretending he is mad, Sir Toby orders him
locked up in a dark room like an insane man.

After that, Sir Andrew reappears bearing a ridiculous challenge which he insists Sir Toby shall read aloud. Overhearing this production, the Maid
volunteers that the person to whom it is addressed is now with her mistress; so Sir Andrew rushes out to post himself in the page's way, taking to
heart Sir Toby's instructions to draw his sword and swear loudly as soon as he sees his antagonist, as that will give him the proper martial air.

Once rid of Sir Andrew, the two others decide not to deliver his written challenge, lest it betray the fact that he is an ignoramus. Instead, Sir Toby
proposes to transmit one by word of mouth, frightening the page by picturing his opponent as a paragon of impetuous fury.

Both have left to settle plans, when Olivia and the page stroll upon the scene. Alone with the youth for whom she has conceived a violent passion,
Olivia regrets having sought his affections only to be told his master suffers from unrequited love. But, before taking leave of the page, she
wrings from him a promise to return on the morrow, and gives him a jewel.

When Olivia has gone, Sir Toby and his friend reappear, to deliver the challenge of Sir Andrew, whom they depict to the page as a fire-eater.
Poor Cesario thereupon anxiously protests he has no quarrel with Sir Andrew, proffering all manner of apologies. His tormentors will, however,
allow him no loop-hole of escape, and all he can obtain is that Sir Toby will try to discover the nature of his offence, while Fabian keeps him
company and incidentally amuses himself by increasing his fears.

Fabian and the page strolling off the stage, the scene is occupied by Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, the latter almost paralysed at the prospect of a duel
with Cesario, whom Sir Toby describes as an expert fencer, notwithstanding his youth. In his terror, Sir Andrew offers to withdraw, pacifying his
antagonist with the gift of his best steed, by which donation Sir Toby intends to profit.

Seeing Fabian return with the page, Sir Toby converses a while with his friend, before both urge their principals to draw swords for appearance
sake, it being impossible to conclude a duel honourably without fighting. So, while the page, in an aside, fervently implores the protection of
Heaven, ruefully confessing it would not require much to make him reveal how little of the man there is in his composition, Sir Andrew is being
heartened by his friends to act the part of a man.

The trembling antagonists have just been brought face to face, and are awaiting the signal, when Antonio rushes between them, imagining the
page is Sebastian, whom he resembles so closely. When Antonio, therefore, offers to fight in his stead, the page proves so eager to grant him that
privilege, that Sir Toby interferes, until Antonio in anger challenges him.

Toby and Antonio are just crossing swords, when officers enter to arrest the latter for his attack upon the ducal vessel. Turning to Cesario, whom
he still thinks his protege Sebastian, Antonio now demands the return of his purse, not wishing to find himself penniless in prison. In reply to a
request he fails to understand, the page generously offers to reward Antonio for interrupting the duel by sharing with him all he has a sum which
appears beggarly in comparison with the contents of Antonio's purse. Hotly reproaching the youth for ingratitude, an accusation truthfully refuted,
Antonio indignantly describes how he saved Sebastian from the jaws of death, ere the officers lead him away.

It is only then that the page sufficiently recovers his senses to wonder whether his brother, whose name has just been uttered, may not have been
saved by this seaman, and exclaims rejoicing, 'O, if it prove, tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love!'

Meantime it is evident that Sir Toby and his companions consider Cesario a paltry lad, who not only shows no courage in a fight, but is base
enough to deny a friend. Such is the contempt they express after he has gone, that Sir Andrew eagerly offers to follow and slap him, an act of
daring which affords his companions such intense amusement that they follow to witness the fun.

Act IV

The fourth act opens before Olivia's house, where Sebastian and the Clown are talking, the latter seeming amused that the former should deny his
acquaintance, although he has brought him many messages. However, Sebastian goodnaturedly gives the Clown a tip, and this individual is just
trying to secure a second donation, when Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian arrive. Egged on by his companions, and thinking he is dealing with
the cowardly page, Sir Andrew swaggers up and strikes Sebastian. But instead of the passive antagonist he expects, he suddenly finds himself
attacked by an enraged man, who deems all Illyrians mad.

While the Clown rushes off in terror to summon his mistress, Sir Andrew, whose courage has evaporated at the first blow, vainly tries with Sir
Toby's help to patch up the quarrel. But Sebastian indignantly refuses to overlook the insult received, so Sir Toby, dreading the outcome of his
encounter with Sir Andrew, challenges him himself.

They are about to fight when Olivia rushes in, reproving her kinsman, and offering lavish apologies to the supposed page. While the three
conspirators vanish, Olivia talks to Sebastian, whom she begs to follow her into the house, where she will give an explanation and make amends
for the insult he has received. Her sudden appearance, kindly invitation, and familiar address, greatly bewilder Sebastian, who is, nevertheless, so
charmed by her beauty that he exclaims, 'If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep' as he wonderingly follows her into the house.
In a room in Olivia's dwelling, the Maid is next seen dressing the Clown to impersonate a priest, although he ruefully declares he is not learned
enough to play such a part with success. His disguise completed, Sir Toby joins them, and bids the Clown knock at the door of Malvolio's cell,
informing him in loud tones that he is the priest. From behind the door the lamentable voice of the steward now begs the priest's intercession,
protesting he should not be locked up in the dark, as he is not mad. Schooled for his part, the Clown declares Malvolio must be insane, seeing the
place is flooded with light, and wittily defeats him with his own arguments when he tries to reason through the door.

While he is doing this, Sir Toby and the Maid go out together, whereupon, seeing himself alone, the Clown suddenly changes his tone and, being
recognised by Malvolio, consents to get him paper and ink so he can communicate with his mistress. But, before doing so, the Clown impishly
teases Malvolio by pretending to doubt his sanity.

The next scene is played in Olivia's garden, where Sebastian gazes around him, wondering how it happens the Countess should have treated him
with such kindness. He is further mystified by her donation of a ring, and by Antonio's absence from the inn. Although under the impression he is
under some delusion, Sebastian ardently hopes that Olivia may be real, as he has fallen desperately in love with her. When she appears, therefore,
accompanied by a priest, begging him follow her to the altar, where the vows they have just secretly exchanged can be duly confirmed, he
enthusiastically cries, 'Lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, that they may fairly note this act of mine!'

Act V

The fifth act opens before Olivia's house, where the Clown and Fabian are conversing, the latter vainly trying to obtain a glimpse of the letter
Malvolfo has written. They are interrupted by the arrival of the Duke, who, after discovering that they belong to Olivia's household, shows great
condescension, rewarding the Clown's witty remarks with a gold coin. This tip calls forth new witticisms and a second donation ensues, but the
Duke warily refuses to be tricked into a third unless the Clown bring his mistress.

It is at this moment Antonio is brought before him by the police, only to be recognised by Cesario as the very man who recently rescued him from
peril, meaning, of course, that Antonio saved him from Sir Andrew's sword. Gazing fixedly at the captive, the Duke recognises in him the seaman
who once boarded his galley, and is about to vent his anger upon him, when his page intercedes. Addressing Antonio more temperately, therefore,
the Duke bids him explain, thus learning that, although Antonio did fight against him on one occasion, he is no pirate, but a seaman who has
come to IIlyria out of devotion to the ungrateful lad standing beside him, in whose company he has been night and day for the past three months.

Such a statement amazes the Duke, who replies that his page, having been constantly with him, the seaman's declaration is palpably false. But,
before he can investigate the matter further, Olivia appears, and, after greeting him, turns to Cesario, reproaching him passionately for not
keeping his promises. These reproaches astonish master and page, until the Duke, fancying that Cesario has tried to supplant him, becomes so
irate that he mutters, 'I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,' a threat which has no terror for the page, but which almost paralyses Olivia.

But, when Cesario swears he will gladly follow the one he loves more than he can ere love wife, Olivia becomes so incensed, that she reveals her
secret betrothal to the page, which he indignantly denies. Seeing the priest draw near who heard their vows, Olivia charges him to make the truth
known, whereupon he duly admits having plighted the couple before him two hours ago.

While the Duke is angrily reproaching his protesting page for such treachery, Sir Andrew rushes in clamouring for a surgeon for Sir Toby, who
has been grievously wounded by Cesario. This new accusation the Duke declares cannot be true, seeing his page has remained quietly beside him,
although Sir Andrew reviles the lad for injuring his friend. The page truthfully denies ever hurting any one; yet, thinking Sir Andrew refers to the
duel, tries to explain how he was compelled to fight against his will.

It is at this moment that Sir Toby is brought in by the Clown, clamouring for a surgeon. In reply to the Duke's questions, he tries to describe how
his wound was received, but is too drunk to do so intelligently. Seeing his predicament, Olivia soon orders him off, so Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and
Fabian leave the stage with the Clown.

They have barely departed when Sebastian rushes in, apologising profusely for injuring Olivia's kinsman, who unaccountably attacked him, and
asking why his lady-love gazes so coldly upon him? The appearance of Sebastian, an exact counterpart of the page in face, voice, and apparel,
startles all present, and while the Duke comments softly upon it, Sebastian suddenly falls upon Antonio's neck, vowing he has endured much
anxiety in his behalf. Staring at the two youths so exactly alike, the sailor expresses a surprise, shared by Olivia and by all the rest. Discovering
his counterpart in his turn, Sebastian exclaims that while he once had a sister just like him, he knows she is drowned. Then he begins questioning
the page, who admits that his father and brother both bore the name of Sebastian, and that the latter must be resting in a watery tomb, for Viola
feels convinced it is her brother's ghost she sees. After she has given irrefutable proofs of her identity, Sebastian embraces her, exclaiming this is
his beloved sister Viola, and obliges her to admit that she donned male apparel to serve the Duke. When she adds that while in his service she
often visited Olivia in his behalf, the Countess' mistake is explained, and Sebastian informs his betrothed that whereas she might have been
pledged to a maid, she is now irrevocably bound to a man.

Although the Duke fancied he could never forget Olivia, he suddenly finds himself less inconsolable than he deemed possible, and turning to his
page, eagerly inquires whether he told the truth when he declared he would never love any one as fervently as he loved his master. Unable to
deny this impeachment, Viola is told to resume her former garb a command she promises to obey as soon as Malvolio, who has seized her
wardrobe in her absence, can make restitution.
Not at all sorry to exchange Cesario for his more virile counterpart, Olivia calls for her steward, whereupon the Clown, rushing forward, delivers
his letter. In this missive Malvolio accuses his mistress of making him behave in unseemly fashion, before imploring her to set him free; it is so
sane, however, that Olivia orders him liberated, ere, turning to the Duke, she welcomes him as brother, he having, meantime, decided to marry
Viola, for whom he felt such tender affection when deeming her only a page. He also decrees that both weddings shall take place in his palace,
whither all are invited to join in the festivities. Then, turning to Viola, the Duke dismisses her forever as page, and warmly welcomes her as a
sweetheart, just as Fabian produces Malvolio. On being questioned, the indignant steward exhibits the letter responsible for his offensive
behaviour, and when Olivia denies writing it, Fabian admits it was penned by her maid, adding that Sir Toby has just married this woman to
reward her for playing so amusing a trick.

When the Clown slyly adds 'some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.' Malvolio, failing to see any
humour in such a remark, stalks off the scene, muttering wrathfully, 'I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you!' After Olivia has acknowledged
that Malvolio has some ground for resentment, the Duke begs his followers hasten after to appease him, before he bids Viola follow him back to
the palace, where, having donned suitable garments, she will become 'Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.'

All the rest having left the stage, the Clown sings a ridiculous song as epilogue, wherein occurs the platitude that 'A great while ago the world
began,' but that in spite of all that 'the play is now done.'

As You Like It

Sir Rowland de Bois has recently died, and, according to the custom of primogeniture, the vast majority of his estate has passed into the

possession of his eldest son, Oliver. Although Sir Rowland has instructed Oliver to take good care of his brother, Orlando, Oliver refuses to do

so. Out of pure spite, he denies Orlando the education, training, and property befitting a gentleman. Charles, a wrestler from the court of Duke

Frederick, arrives to warn Oliver of a rumor that Orlando will challenge Charles to a fight on the following day. Fearing censure if he should beat

a nobleman, Charles begs Oliver to intervene, but Oliver convinces the wrestler that Orlando is a dishonorable sportsman who will take whatever

dastardly means necessary to win. Charles vows to pummel Orlando, which delights Oliver.

Duke Senior has been usurped of his throne by his brother, Duke Frederick, and has fled to the Forest of Ardenne, where he lives like Robin

Hood with a band of loyal followers. Duke Frederick allows Senior’s daughter, Rosalind, to remain at court because of her inseparable friendship

with his own daughter, Celia. The day arrives when Orlando is scheduled to fight Charles, and the women witness Orlando’s defeat of the court

wrestler. Orlando and Rosalind instantly fall in love with one another, though Rosalind keeps this fact a secret from everyone but Celia. Orlando

returns home from the wrestling match, only to have his faithful servant Adam warn him about Oliver’s plot against Orlando’s life. Orlando

decides to leave for the safety of Ardenne. Without warning, Duke Frederick has a change of heart regarding Rosalind and banishes her from

court. She, too, decides to flee to the Forest of Ardenne and leaves with Celia, who cannot bear to be without Rosalind, and Touchstone, the court

jester. To ensure the safety of their journey, Rosalind assumes the dress of a young man and takes the name Ganymede, while Celia dresses as a

common shepherdess and calls herself Aliena.

Duke Frederick is furious at his daughter’s disappearance. When he learns that the flight of his daughter and niece coincides with the

disappearance of Orlando, the duke orders Oliver to lead the manhunt, threatening to confiscate Oliver’s lands and property should he fail.

Frederick also decides it is time to destroy his brother once and for all and begins to raise an army.

Duke Senior lives in the Forest of Ardenne with a band of lords who have gone into voluntary exile. He praises the simple life among the trees,

happy to be absent from the machinations of court life. Orlando, exhausted by travel and desperate to find food for his starving companion,

Adam, barges in on the duke’s camp and rudely demands that they not eat until he is given food. Duke Senior calms Orlando and, when he learns

that the young man is the son of his dear former friend, accepts him into his company. Meanwhile, Rosalind and Celia, disguised as Ganymede

and Aliena, arrive in the forest and meet a lovesick young shepherd named Silvius who pines away for the disdainful Phoebe. The two women

purchase a modest cottage, and soon enough Rosalind runs into the equally lovesick Orlando. Taking her to be a young man, Orlando confides in

Rosalind that his affections are overpowering him. Rosalind, as Ganymede, claims to be an expert in exorcising such emotions and promises to

cure Orlando of lovesickness if he agrees to pretend that Ganymede is Rosalind and promises to come woo her every day. Orlando agrees, and the

love lessons begin.

Meanwhile, Phoebe becomes increasingly cruel in her rejection of Silvius. When Rosalind intervenes, disguised as Ganymede, Phoebe falls

hopelessly in love with Ganymede. One day, Orlando fails to show up for his tutorial with Ganymede. Rosalind, reacting to her infatuation with

Orlando, is distraught until Oliver appears. Oliver describes how Orlando stumbled upon him in the forest and saved him from being devoured by

a hungry lioness. Oliver and Celia, still disguised as the shepherdess Aliena, fall instantly in love and agree to marry. As time passes, Phoebe

becomes increasingly insistent in her pursuit of Ganymede, and Orlando grows tired of pretending that a boy is his dear Rosalind. Rosalind

decides to end the charade. She promises that Ganymede will wed Phoebe, if Ganymede will ever marry a woman, and she makes everyone

pledge to meet the next day at the wedding. They all agree.

The day of the wedding arrives, and Rosalind gathers the various couples: Phoebe and Silvius; Celia and Oliver; Touchstone and Audrey, a

goatherd he intends to marry; and Orlando. The group congregates before Duke Senior and his men. Rosalind, still disguised as Ganymede,

reminds the lovers of their various vows, then secures a promise from Phoebe that if for some reason she refuses to marry Ganymede she will

marry Silvius, and a promise from the duke that he would allow his daughter to marry Orlando if she were available. Rosalind leaves with the

disguised Celia, and the two soon return as themselves, accompanied by Hymen, the god of marriage. Hymen officiates at the ceremony and

marries Rosalind and Orlando, Celia and Oliver, Phoebe and Silvius, and Audrey and Touchstone. The festive wedding celebration is interrupted

by even more festive news: while marching with his army to attack Duke Senior, Duke Frederick came upon a holy man who convinced him to

put aside his worldly concerns and assume a monastic life. -Frederick changes his ways and returns the throne to Duke Senior. The guests

continue dancing, happy in the knowledge that they will soon return to the royal court.
 ROMEO AND JULIET

In the streets of Verona another brawl breaks out between the servants of the feuding noble families of Capulet and Montague. Benvolio, a

Montague, tries to stop the fighting, but is himself embroiled when the rash Capulet, Tybalt, arrives on the scene. After citizens outraged by the

constant violence beat back the warring factions, Prince Escalus, the ruler of Verona, attempts to prevent any further conflicts between the

families by decreeing death for any individual who disturbs the peace in the future.

Romeo, the son of Montague, runs into his cousin Benvolio, who had earlier seen Romeo moping in a grove of sycamores. After some prodding

by Benvolio, Romeo confides that he is in love with Rosaline, a woman who does not return his affections. Benvolio counsels him to forget this

woman and find another, more beautiful one, but Romeo remains despondent.

Meanwhile, Paris, a kinsman of the Prince, seeks Juliet’s hand in marriage. Her father Capulet, though happy at the match, asks Paris to wait two

years, since Juliet is not yet even fourteen. Capulet dispatches a servant with a list of people to invite to a masquerade and feast he traditionally

holds. He invites Paris to the feast, hoping that Paris will begin to win Juliet’s heart.

Romeo and Benvolio, still discussing Rosaline, encounter the Capulet servant bearing the list of invitations. Benvolio suggests that they attend,

since that will allow Romeo to compare his beloved to other beautiful women of Verona. Romeo agrees to go with Benvolio to the feast, but only

because Rosaline, whose name he reads on the list, will be there.

In Capulet’s household, young Juliet talks with her mother, Lady Capulet, and her nurse about the possibility of marrying Paris. Juliet has not yet

considered marriage, but agrees to look at Paris during the feast to see if she thinks she could fall in love with him.

The tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet... told in text messages

The feast begins. A melancholy Romeo follows Benvolio and their witty friend Mercutio to Capulet’s house. Once inside, Romeo sees Juliet from

a distance and instantly falls in love with her; he forgets about Rosaline completely. As Romeo watches Juliet, entranced, a young Capulet,

Tybalt, recognizes him, and is enraged that a Montague would sneak into a Capulet feast. He prepares to attack, but Capulet holds him back.

Soon, Romeo speaks to Juliet, and the two experience a profound attraction. They kiss, not even knowing each other’s names. When he finds out
from Juliet’s nurse that she is the daughter of Capulet—his family’s enemy—he becomes distraught. When Juliet learns that the young man she

has just kissed is the son of Montague, she grows equally upset.

As Mercutio and Benvolio leave the Capulet estate, Romeo leaps over the orchard wall into the garden, unable to leave Juliet behind. From his

hiding place, he sees Juliet in a window above the orchard and hears her speak his name. He calls out to her, and they exchange vows of love.

Romeo hurries to see his friend and confessor Friar Lawrence, who, though shocked at the sudden turn of Romeo’s heart, agrees to marry the

young lovers in secret since he sees in their love the possibility of ending the age-old feud between Capulet and Montague. The following day,

Romeo and Juliet meet at Friar Lawrence’s cell and are married. The Nurse, who is privy to the secret, procures a ladder, which Romeo will use

to climb into Juliet’s window for their wedding night.

The next day, Benvolio and Mercutio encounter Tybalt—Juliet’s cousin—who, still enraged that Romeo attended Capulet’s feast, has challenged

Romeo to a duel. Romeo appears. Now Tybalt’s kinsman by marriage, Romeo begs the Capulet to hold off the duel until he understands why

Romeo does not want to fight. Disgusted with this plea for peace, Mercutio says that he will fight Tybalt himself. The two begin to duel. Romeo

tries to stop them by leaping between the combatants. Tybalt stabs Mercutio under Romeo’s arm, and Mercutio dies. Romeo, in a rage, kills

Tybalt. Romeo flees from the scene. Soon after, the Prince declares him forever banished from Verona for his crime. Friar Lawrence arranges for

Romeo to spend his wedding night with Juliet before he has to leave for Mantua the following morning.

In her room, Juliet awaits the arrival of her new husband. The Nurse enters, and, after some confusion, tells Juliet that Romeo has killed Tybalt.

Distraught, Juliet suddenly finds herself married to a man who has killed her kinsman. But she resettles herself, and realizes that her duty belongs

with her love: to Romeo.

Romeo sneaks into Juliet’s room that night, and at last they consummate their marriage and their love. Morning comes, and the lovers bid

farewell, unsure when they will see each other again. Juliet learns that her father, affected by the recent events, now intends for her to marry Paris

in just three days. Unsure of how to proceed—unable to reveal to her parents that she is married to Romeo, but unwilling to marry Paris now that

she is Romeo’s wife—Juliet asks her nurse for advice. She counsels Juliet to proceed as if Romeo were dead and to marry Paris, who is a better

match anyway. Disgusted with the Nurse’s disloyalty, Juliet disregards her advice and hurries to Friar Lawrence. He concocts a plan to reunite

Juliet with Romeo in Mantua. The night before her wedding to Paris, Juliet must drink a potion that will make her appear to be dead. After she is

laid to rest in the family’s crypt, the Friar and Romeo will secretly retrieve her, and she will be free to live with Romeo, away from their parents’

feuding.

Juliet returns home to discover the wedding has been moved ahead one day, and she is to be married tomorrow. That night, Juliet drinks the

potion, and the Nurse discovers her, apparently dead, the next morning. The Capulets grieve, and Juliet is entombed according to plan. But Friar
Lawrence’s message explaining the plan to Romeo never reaches Mantua. Its bearer, Friar John, gets confined to a quarantined house. Romeo

hears only that Juliet is dead.

Romeo learns only of Juliet’s death and decides to kill himself rather than live without her. He buys a vial of poison from a reluctant Apothecary,

then speeds back to Verona to take his own life at Juliet’s tomb. Outside the Capulet crypt, Romeo comes upon Paris, who is scattering flowers

on Juliet’s grave. They fight, and Romeo kills Paris. He enters the tomb, sees Juliet’s inanimate body, drinks the poison, and dies by her side. Just

then, Friar Lawrence enters and realizes that Romeo has killed Paris and himself. At the same time, Juliet awakes. Friar Lawrence hears the

coming of the watch. When Juliet refuses to leave with him, he flees alone. Juliet sees her beloved Romeo and realizes he has killed himself with

poison. She kisses his poisoned lips, and when that does not kill her, buries his dagger in her chest, falling dead upon his body.

The watch arrives, followed closely by the Prince, the Capulets, and Montague. Montague declares that Lady Montague has died of grief over

Romeo’s exile. Seeing their children’s bodies, Capulet and Montague agree to end their long-standing feud and to raise gold statues of their

children side-by-side in a newly peaceful Verona.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

A Midsummer Night's Dream opens with Theseus and Hippolyta planning their wedding, which takes place in four days. Theseus is upset because
time is moving so slowly, but Hippolyta assures him the four days will quickly pass. Their relationship has not always been so loving. Theseus
won Hippolyta during a battle.

While they discuss their relationship, Egeus enters with his daughter, Hermia, and her two suitors, Lysander and Demetrius. Hermia is in love
with Lysander, but her father wants her to marry Demetrius. Lysander argues that he is as good of a match as Demetrius, but Egeus won't listen.
Instead, he declares that if Hermia won't marry Demetrius, she will die: This is the law of Athens and his right as her father. Theseus agrees that
Hermia should obey her father but offers her a third option: spending her life in a nunnery. Hermia has until the day of Theseus and Hippolyta's
wedding to decide upon her fate.

Upset by Theseus' decree, Lysander comes up with a plan. He and Hermia can escape from Athens and its unjust laws by running away to his
widowed aunt's house. Here he and Hermia can marry and live in peace. As they discuss their plans, Helena enters. She is in love with Demetrius
and wonders how Hermia managed to capture his heart. Hermia insists she hates Demetrius. She and Lysander then tell Helena about their plan to
leave Athens. In a last effort to gain Demetrius' love, Helena decides to tell him of this plot, but she doesn't receive even a "thank you" from her
cold-hearted lover.

From the Duke's palace, the scene switches to the cottage of Peter Quince, a carpenter who directs a group of amateur actors in his free time. He
has chosen the play "Pyramus and Thisbe" to perform for Theseus' wedding and is in the process of casting roles. Nick Bottom, the weaver, is
given the leading role of Pyramus, while Francis Flute, the bellows-mender, wins the female lead, Thisbe. The remainder of the roles are
assigned, and the group plans to meet the following night at the Duke's oak for a rehearsal — the same woods where Hermia and Lysander plan
to meet on their flight from Athens.

The action of the play now shifts to this fairy-enchanted woods, where Puck, Oberon's joker, speaks with one of Titania's fairies. The fairy
recognizes Puck as the troublemaker, Robin Goodfellow. They also discuss the argument between Titania and Oberon; Oberon is angry with
Titania because she refuses to give him the Indian boy she is raising. While Puck and the fairy talk, Titania and Oberon enter from opposite ends
of the stage. After criticizing each other's infidelities — Titania was supposedly in love with Theseus and Oberon with Hippolyta, among others
— Titania reminds Oberon that their argument has led to chaos in the natural world. Oberon says this disaster will end if she relinquishes the
Indian boy, but Titania refuses. Oberon hatches a sneaky plan to get the boy back. He sends Puck out to find a plant called love-in-idleness, the
juice of which makes any person dote on the next creature he or she sees.

While Puck is out looking for this magical flower, Demetrius and Helena wander past Oberon. As usual, Demetrius insists Helena stop following
him; he even vows to harm her if she doesn't leave him alone. Taking pity on Helena, Oberon instructs Puck to put some love juice in Demetrius'
eyes at a moment when Helena will be the first person he sees upon waking.

Titania and her fairies are the next to enter the stage, with Oberon secretly following. When Titania falls asleep, Oberon squeezes the love juice in
her eyes, hoping a wild beast will be the first creature she sees upon waking. In the meantime, Hermia and Lysander wander near Titania's bower.
Lost in the woods, they decide to stop and rest until morning. Puck sees Lysander asleep and assumes he is the nasty Athenian Oberon told him
about. He puts the love juice in Lysander's eyes. Still in pursuit of Demetrius, Helena wanders past and notices the sleeping Lysander. She
awakens him, and he immediately falls in love with her. Cautious and heartbroken, Helena assumes Lysander is teasing her, so she runs away.
Lysander follows. Hermia awakens, calling out for Lysander's help, because she has just had a nightmare in which a snake ate her heart. She
dashes into the woods in search of Lysander.

Quince, Bottom, and the other actors are the next characters to meander near Titania's bower. As they rehearse "Pyramus and Thisbe," Puck
secretly listens, appalled by their awful acting. Deciding Bottom is the worst in the bunch, Puck gives him an ass-head. When Bottom saunters
out of the woods to deliver his lines, the other actors fly from him in fear. Bottom is unaware of the transformation and walks unworriedly
through the woods. Singing as he passes her bower, Bottom awakens Titania who immediately falls in love with him.

Puck explains all of these events to Oberon, who is pleased with the way his plan has turned out. Indeed, everything seems perfect, until
Demetrius and Hermia walk past, Hermia believing Demetrius has harmed Lysander, who has mysteriously disappeared. Oberon realizes that
Puck has anointed the wrong Athenian with the love juice. Angry with this mistake, Oberon sends Puck in search of Helena, vowing to charm
Demetrius' eyes when she appears. Now both Lysander and Demetrius are in love with Helena, adding much to Puck's amusement at the
foolishness of mortals. Helena still believes they are teasing her. When Hermia honestly, and confusedly, says she knows nothing about the
sudden switch in Lysander's feelings, Helena believes she is simply playing dumb: In her opinion, her three friends are laughing at her.

Before a serious fight breaks out between Demetrius and Lysander, Oberon has Puck create a fog that will keep the lovers from finding one
another. While they're sleeping, Puck reverses the spell on Lysander. He also casts a spell so none of the lovers will remember what has happened
in the woods. In the meantime, Oberon returns to Titania's bower in search of the Indian boy. Titania willingly releases him because she only has
eyes for Bottom. Oberon's plan is now complete, and he is disgusted to see his queen in love with an ass, so he releases her from the spell.

Titania awakens and tells Oberon about her strange dream of being in love with an ass. Oberon has Puck remove the ass-head from Bottom. Now
that Oberon has won the Indian boy from Titania, he is willing to forget their argument, and the two, reunited, dance off together so they can
bless Theseus' marriage.

Morning has arrived and Theseus, Hippolyta, and Egeus are walking through the woods. Theseus suddenly spies the sleeping lovers and imagines
they woke early to observe the rite of May. When the lovers are awakened, Demetrius confesses that he now loves Helena. Theseus decides the
other lovers should be married along with him and Hippolyta. As they return to the palace, the scene shifts to Bottom. Just awakening from his
dream, Bottom declares he'll have Quince write a ballad about it, called "Bottom's Dream," because it has no bottom.

Quince and the other actors haven't forgotten their missing friend, Bottom. They worry "Pyramus and Thisbe" won't be able to go on without him,
which saddens them because Theseus is known for his generosity, and they might have been rewarded with a lifelong pension for their
performance. As they lament this lost opportunity, Bottom suddenly returns. His friends want to hear his story, but Bottom tells them there isn't
time for that: They must prepare for the play.

In the final scene, the play has come full circle, and all of the cast returns to the palace where Theseus and Hippolyta discuss the strange tale the
lovers have told them about the events of the previous evening. The joyous lovers enter, and Theseus decides it is time to plan the festivities for
the evening. Of all the possible performances, the play "Pyramus and Thisbe" turns out to be the most promising. Theseus is intrigued by the
paradoxical summary of the play, which suggests it is both merry and tragical, tedious and brief. The players finally present their play. Hippolyta
is disgusted by their pathetic acting, but Theseus argues that even the best actors create only a brief illusion; the worst must be assisted by an
imaginative audience. The play ends with Puck's final speech, in which he apologizes for the weakness of the performance and promises that the
next production will be better.
The Comedy of Errors: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I

This play opens in the palace of the Duke of Ephesus, while he is giving audience to a Syracusan merchant, who has come to this city not
knowing a recent ordinance condemns all his countrymen to death. A fine of a thousand marks being the only alternative, the prisoner despairs of
being able to raise it among strangers, and exclaims his woes will end 'with the evening sun!'

This philosophical remark amazes the Duke, who inquires what the Syracusan's life has been, seeing he seems glad to lose it. In reply, Egeon
states that, born and married in Syracuse, he removed to Epidamnum, where his wife gave birth to twin sons, on the same day that a slave woman
was similarly blessed. The merchant's sons proving so exactly alike that no one could tell them apart, he gladly secured as attendants for them the
twin children of this slave, because they, too, were exact counterparts.

Shortly after making this purchase, the merchant, his wife, and the four small children set out for home, only to be overtaken by a tempest, during
which the crew deserted them on a dismantled ship. Forced to provide for the safety of his helpless family, the merchant bound his younger son
and slave to a mast with his wife, attaching himself to another with the two elder children, just before the vessel broke up. Although they now
drifted apart, Egeon saw his wife and the children with her rescued, ere he was swept away to be saved later by another ship, which brought him
to Syracuse.

Notwithstanding constant efforts since then to discover traces of wife and missing children, the merchant has heard nothing of them. When
eighteen, his sole remaining son insisted upon going in search of them, accompanied by his servant, equally anxious to find a twin. Receiving no
tidings of these travellers, Egeon followed them two years later, and, after vainly journeying about five years, landed in Ephesus, convinced of
the loss of all he held dear.

Touched by Egeon's sad story, the Duke says he would gladly free him, did not the law forbid; all he can do is to allow the Syracusan to scour the
city in company of an officer, in hopes of raising the sum necessary to save his life.

In the next scene Antipholus, eldest son of the Syracusan merchant, just landed in Ephesus with his attendant Dromio, is met by a local
tradesman, who charitably warns him not to reveal his birth-place, lest he, too, forfeit his life like the traveller to be executed at sunset. Instead,
he bids the young Syracusan state he came from Epidamnum, advice which Antipholus gratefully promises to follow. Then, turning to his
servant, he bids him go to the inn, entrusting to his keeping all his fortune, and promising to join him there when he has viewed the town.

Bearing off his master's funds, Dromio hints that another would decamp with them, words his master explains to the benevolent merchant by
stating his man often beguiles his low spirits by similar jests. In reply to Antipholus' invitation to dine with him, the merchant urges a previous
engagement, promising, however, to spend the evening with him instead. The merchant having gone, the Syracusan mournfully comments on not
being able to find his missing brother, saying, 'I to the world am like a drop of water that in the ocean seeks another drop!'

While standing on the market place, he is approached by a man, so similar in appearance to his own servant Dromio that he naturally mistakes
him for his slave. This is, however, the second slave, also called Dromio, who has lived with his master in Ephesus for many years. When the
Syracusan master hails the Ephesian servant, asking why he has returned, this man, mistaking him for his employer, volubly bids him hurry home
to dinner, for his mistress impatiently awaits his return.

Deeming this part of the fooling in which his servant indulges to divert him, the Syracusan, who is in no playful mood, bids him desist, and
explain instead how he disposed of the money entrusted to him. Imagining his master refers to a sixpence given to pay a bill, the Ephesian servant
vows he has delivered it to the sadler, a statement the Syracusan regards as humorous evasion. But when the servant repeats he should hurry
home to his waiting wife, Antipholus becomes so indignant that, although Dromio ruefully asserts his mistress has already beaten him, he
receives a second chastisement.

To avoid further blows poor Dromio now runs away, while the Syracusan mutters he will have to hasten to the inn to make sure his money is
safe.

Act II

The second act opens in the house of Antipholus, the Ephesian, who bears the self-same name as his brother, just as his servant bears that of the
Syracusan slave. For some time past the Ephesian has dwelt in this house with his wife, a wealthy woman called Adriana. Conversing with her
sister, this lady impatiently wonders why her husband doesn't return, and what has become of the servant sent to get him. Her sister, Luciana,
urges some merchant may have invited her brother-in-law to dinner, adding, to comfort the fretting wife, that men must be allowed some
latitude.
When Adriana tartly inquires whether that is the reason why she has hitherto declined to marry, Luciana retorts that she will never do so until she
has learned to be patient with a man's vagaries. Such statements, however, fail to appease Adriana, who bitterly remarks it is easy enough to be
patient in regard to the shortcomings of some one else's husband!

They are still arguing when Dromio returns. Asked whether he has delivered his message, and why his master doesn't appear, the servant ruefully
describes how he was received, vowing his master spoke of nothing but gold, rudely exclaiming when he mentioned his mistress 'I know not thy
mistress; out on thy mistress!' On learning that she has thus been denied, Adriana, feeling sure her husband must be in love with some one else,
orders her servant to bring him home immediately, under penalty of a whipping.

The Ephesian Dromio has barely gone, when Luciana tells her sister that if she allows angry passions to distort her features, she will soon become
homely, only to hear that it is impossible to refrain from anger and jealousy under such circumstances as these. Adriana then adds she would
gladly forfeit the golden chain her husband promised her, were he only safe at home, showing such grief that she leaves the room weeping, while
her sister comments upon the folly of jealousy.

We are next transferred to the market place, whither the Syracusan has returned, after ascertaining his money is safe at the inn. His servant not
having been found there, he wonders where Dromio may be, when he suddenly sees him draw near. Sternly inquiring whether he has come to his
senses,
Antipholus, in spite of the man's evident surprise, reproaches him for pretending a while ago that his wife wanted him to hasten home to dinner.
But the man truthfully denies all this, vowing he has not seen his master since he left him to carry the gold to the inn. In his anger at what seems
wanton evasion, Antipholus beats Dromio, saying that, although he occasionally condescends to jest with him, he refuses to be mocked in serious
moments.

The misunderstanding between master and man continues, neither suspecting there are in this town two masters and two servants, bearing the
same names and looking exactly alike. They are still disputing when Adriana and her sister burst upon the scene. Taking the Syracusan for her
husband, Adriana, calling him by name, hotly reproaches him for not coming home on time, and for publicly denying her existence. In her
jealousy, she accuses him of forgetting her for the sake of some other fair dame, a reproach which amazes the Syracusan, who gravely assures her
that never having seen her before, and having been in Ephesus only two hours, he doesn't understand what she means.

Such a statement, considering his exact resemblance to the Ephesian Antipholus, causes Luciana indignantly to exclaim that he should treat his
wife with more respect. On hearing that Dromio, whom, of course, he deems his servant, was sent to summon him home, only to be ill-treated,
Antipholus is nonplussed. He, therefore, questions the man, who truthfully denies ever having seen Adriana, a statement she and Antipholus
refuse to credit, the latter on account of the message brought a while ago.
Sure now that both husband and slave are in league against her, but determined not to lose
sight of them again, Adriana exclaims, 'Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: thou art
an elm, my husband, I a vine,' using such eloquence and determination that the Syracusan,
fancying there must be some truth in her statement, and that he married her in a dream,
prepares to yield.

When Luciana bids Dromio hurry home, he crosses himself, wildly muttering that
witchcraft is at work, and it is only after his master has certified that he still bears his
wonted form, that he feels sure he has not been transformed into some strange creature. The
persistent Adriana now leads Antipholus home, charging Dromio to mount guard at the
door, and not admit any one, hinting that he can atone for previous misconduct by implicitly
carrying out these orders. It is in a state of bewilderment that the Syracusan accompanies
his wife and sister-in-law, while his servant decides to obey orders and play porter.

Act III

The Syracusan Dromio is behind the door, when the Ephesian master arrives with his
servant and a couple of merchants whom he has invited to dinner. After explaining that they
must hurry, his wife being irritable when he is not punctual, the Ephesian begs one of the
guests explain to Adriana that the delay occurred because he was so anxious to bring her the
promised golden chain, which can be ready only on the morrow. He then reproaches
Dromio for saying he has already called him twice; whereupon his man ruefully cries that
were his skin parchment and the blows received ink, he could prove by his master's own
handwriting the truth of his words. Not guilty of having beaten Dromio, the Ephesian
resents this accusation, and knocks loudly on his door.

Instead of admittance, he and his servant are jeered at by the Dromio within, who, boldly
giving his name, calls himself Antipholus' porter, stating he is guarding the door while his
master and mistress dine. The conversation between the real master and servant without,
with Dromio within, fairly bristles with misunderstandings, the noise they make finally
bringing maid and wife to inquire what it means.

Both women are so sure Antipholus and Dromio are with them, that they indignantly refuse
to admit any one else. Thus locked out, master and man threaten to break in the door,
desisting only when one of the merchants suggests such a proceeding would cause vulgar
comment and cast a slur upon the Ephesian's wife. In his anger, however, the husband
swears he will punish Adriana, by dining at the inn with some courtesan, upon whom he will bestow the golden chain which he bids the
goldsmith bring when he sups with him that evening.

The next scene is played in the Ephesian's house, where Luciana, left alone with the Syracusan, reproaches him for cold behaviour to his wife,
telling him that, although he wed her sister for the sake of her fortune, he should atone for the anxiety she has just endured by a few caresses. Her
gentle pleading fascinates the Syracusan, who, although not attracted by his brother's wife, is greatly charmed by her sister. Seeing he persists in
complimenting and wooing her, Luciana, deeming it a mark of disrespect to her sister, refuses to listen when he exclaims, 'Thee will I love and
with thee lead my life: thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife.' Instead, she volunteers to fetch Adriana, so they can make friends.

It is while Antipholus is awaiting Luciana's return, that Dromio runs in, dismayed at being called husband by the cook, of whom he gives an
unflattering description in reply to his master's questions. Both master and man, mystified at being claimed as husbands by ladies who have no
attractions for them, conclude they are victims of some witchcraft, and that they had better leave Ephesus as soon as possible. The master,
therefore, bids his servant hurry down to the shore, and put their luggage on board a vessel ready to sail a command which the servant gladly
obeys, saying, 'As from a bear a man would run for life, so fly I from her that would be my wife.'

His servant having gone, the Syracusan vows he, too, would fain flee from the wife claiming him, although he is so deeply enamoured with her
sister, that he has to defend himself against her charms as from a mermaid's song. It is while he is alone that the goldsmith enters, calling him by
name, and delivers the golden chain. Amazed at receiving such a gift, the Syracusan asks what he is to do with it, whereupon the goldsmith states
he ordered it, and departs, adding he can pay for it at supper. The Syracusan wonders over this episode, and over the many strange happenings of
the day, ere deciding to hasten to the market-place, where his servant will meet him as soon as he has made arrangements to sail.

Act IV

The fourth act opens on the public square, where a merchant accosts the goldsmith, claiming the immediate payment of a debt, as he wishes to
leave that day. Although not denying the debt, the goldsmith does not at present possess the necessary sum, but says he can easily obtain it from
Antipholus, who owes him such an amount for a golden chain. He, therefore, volunteers to go in quest of this customer, accompanied by the
merchant, who does not wish to lose sight of him until the money is paid.
These two soon perceive the Ephesian and his servant returning from the inn, and overhear the master state he is on his way to the goldsmith's,
bidding his servant go and purchase a rope's end, with which to beat the saucy servant who locked them out that noon. The Ephesian Dromio has
just departed on this errand, slyly hoping to wield the rope himself, when Antipholus accosts the goldsmith, reproaching him for not having
brought to the inn the golden chain. Unable to understand such a reproach, after having himself placed it in Antipholus' hand, the goldsmith
demands the immediate payment of his bill, so he can rid himself of the merchant's company.

Instead of dispensing the expected sum, the Ephesian bids the goldsmith claim the money from his wife in exchange for his chain, although the
distracted artist insists he has already delivered it. When the Ephesian denies it, he incurs the contempt of both his interlocutors, and contradictory
statements result in a quarrel, wherein the merchant finally calls for an officer to arrest the goldsmith an insult the latter immediately avenges by
having Antipholus taken into custody, too.

The double arrest has just occurred when the Syracusan servant returns from the port. Not knowing there is another man in town just like his
master, this Dromio hastens up to the Ephesian to report that they can sail immediately; but whereas he expects praise for diligence, he is hailed
as a madman, the Ephesian hotly denying having sent him on any other errand save to purchase a rope. Not allowed to pause long enough to sift
this matter to the bottom, the Ephesian, led off by the officer, calls to Dromio to hurry home for the purse of ducats in his desk which will
purchase his release.

Left alone on the square, desk key in hand, Dromio debates whether he dare return to the house where the fat cook claims him as husband, but
after some cogitation, decides 'servants must their masters' mind fulfil,' and hurries off in quest of the money to free the Ephesian.

The next scene is played in the house, where the two women are talking, the wife insisting upon hearing every word her supposed husband said to
Luciana, who vainly tries to soften the fact that Antipholus denied ever having been married, and made desperate love to her. In her attempt to
induce the unfortunate Adriana to overlook her husband's shortcomings, Luciana, hearing her decry him, exclaims such a husband is no loss,
whereupon the wife however willing to censure him herself, defends Antipholus vehemently, saying, 'My heart prays for him, though my tongue
do curse!'

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the breathless Dromio, bringing the key and demanding the money to free his master, arrested,
he knows not on what charge. While Luciana hastens off to procure the ducats, the wife, questioning the servant, learns that something has been
said about a chain. She has not, however, been able to discover any more, when her sister returns with the money, and Dromio hurries off to free
the prisoner he takes for his master.

The curtain next rises on a public square, where the Syracusan wonders because almost every man he meets calls him by name, invites him, or
offers to sell him some commodity. When his servant runs up, delivering the Ephesian's gold, the master wonderingly inquires what it means, and
thinks his man must be distracted when he reports seeing him a while ago in custody of an officer. Charitably concluding they are both suffering
from delusions from which they will be freed only when they have left Ephesus, Antipholus prepares to depart. But, before he can do so, the
courtesan, with whom his twin brother has been dining, rushes up demanding the chain he wears around his neck, which was to have been given
her in exchange for her ring. When the Syracusan gravely denies having dined with her, received a ring, or promised her a chain, fearing lest she
may receive no equivalent for her token, the courtesan gives vent to such anger that master and man flee.

Left alone in the square, the irate courtesan decides that Antipholus must be mad, else how could he deny dining with her. Besides, she
remembers that the story he told of his exclusion from home sounded suspicious. She, therefore, determines to claim the promised chain from
Antipholus' wife, telling her that her husband, in a fit of mental aberration, rushed into her house and bore off her property!

We next see the Ephesian walking along the street with his guard, promising not to escape, but soon to satisfy all claims with the money his
servant will bring. He accounts for the delay by stating his wife has been in a wayward mood lately, and seeing a Dromio appear, naturally deems
him the servant he sent in quest of the ducats, as well as to purchase a rope.

When the Ephesian master demands his money, the man replies there was no change, and delivers his purchase. Thereupon numerous questions, a
beating, and considerable abuse ensue, the servant truthfully insisting he has never been sent for money, but for a rope. It is just at the end of this
misunderstanding that the Ephesian's wife, her sister, the courtesan, and a physician appear upon the square. The women are bringing this doctor
in hopes he can perform some conjuring tricks, whereby Antipholus will be freed from the evil spirit which makes him deny his wife and bestow
gifts upon strangers.

On perceiving the excitement to which the Ephesian is a prey, they naturally conclude it is a symptom of insanity a conviction heightened by his
striking the physician, who tries to feel his pulse. Finding this patient possessed by so evil a spirit, the physician begins his conjuring, only to be
rudely silenced by the Ephesian, who accuses him of abetting his wife in locking him out of his house. This statement causes Adriana to exclaim
her husband must be mad indeed, seeing he dined at home, appealing to her servant and to Luciana to confirm her words. But, whereas the
servant readily testifies he and his master were locked out, Luciana vows both were at home, one dining, the other acting as porter.

As Adriana goes on to explain that she has just given Dromio the required bag of gold, the man indignantly denies it, protesting he has not been
back to the house, and thereby increasing the confusion. In his anger, the Ephesian now shows such violence that Adriana signals to men lurking
in the background, who rush forward and bind him fast, to prevent his doing himself any harm.

It is while the Ephesian Antipholus is being thus secured that the officer refuses to give him up, unless paid for the chain, money which Adriana
is ready to disburse. Meantime, the courtesan clamours that this chain was to have been given to her in exchange for the ring on Antipholus'
finger.

While the Ephesian is led away bound by doctor and attendants, his wife, the courtesan, and officer discuss this affair, until the Syracusan
suddenly dashes past them with drawn sword, closely followed by his servant. Owing to the resemblance between masters and men, Adriana
thinks her husband has become a raving maniac, and flees screaming, her actions causing the fugitives to pause and recognise her. Deciding it
best not to remain in a town where they are likely to be claimed as husbands by women whom they do not affect, both long to depart.

Act V

The fifth act opens in a street before a Priory, where the merchant and goldsmith are conversing, the latter apologising for keeping the former
waiting for his money, saying it is strange Antipholus should deny receiving the chain, as he has hitherto enjoyed an enviable reputation for
honesty.

They are interrupted by the appearance of the Syracusan Antipholus and his servant, the former wearing the chain in question round his neck. As
this seems insult added to injury, the goldsmith hotly reproaches his supposed patron for denying having received his wares a denial the
Syracusan refutes, although the merchant asserts he overheard it.

To be accused of such baseness so irritates the Syracusan that he challenges the merchant, with whom he is just beginning to fight, when Adriana,
her sister, and the courtesan rush upon the scene, the frantic wife imploring the merchant to spare her mad husband, and calling upon her
followers to bind fast master and man, and take them home. Terrified at the prospect of such a fate, the Syracusan servant hastily advises his
master to seek sanctuary with him in the Priory, into which both rush, and from whence the Abbess soon emerges to forbid further pursuit.

When Adriana tearfully explains that they have come in quest of her maniac husband, whom the goldsmith acknowledges not to be in his right
mind, and whom the merchant regrets having challenged, the Abbess demands how his insanity revealed itself. The unhappy wife then states that,
although Antipholus has met with neither loss nor sorrow, his frequent absences from home have caused her anxiety. Her answers to the Abbess'
questions so plainly reveal her jealous recriminations have been almost incessant, that the holy woman soon pitifully declares a wife's jealousy
has driven Antipholus mad. She, therefore, refuses to let Adriana see her husband, declaring that, because he has taken refuge with her, she will
defend him, making use of her skill to restore his health and mind. Then, notwithstanding Adriana's recriminations, she vanishes within the Priory
gates.

The Abbess having gone, wife, sister, goldsmith, and merchant decide to petition the Duke to interfere in their behalf. The merchant avers they
can easily do so, since the Duke is due here within the next few minutes, to witness the execution of the old Syracusan merchant, who has been
unable to raise the required fine. All, therefore, decide to linger in this neighbourhood until the Duke arrives, when they intend to fall at his feet
and beseech his aid.

A moment later the Duke appears with his train, and the heralds proclaim the prisoner must die unless his fine be paid. Rushing forward, Adriana
falls at the Duke's feet, hysterically demanding justice against the Abbess, a request which amazes him, as a lady of such holy repute cannot have
done wrong. But, on hearing Adriana explain what has happened, the Duke, who is deeply attached to Antipholus, immediately promises to
investigate the affair.

It is at this juncture that a servant rushes in, calling to Adriana to save herself, and reporting that master and man, exasperated by the doctor's
treatment, have broken bounds and are at large. That is no news to Adrfana, who, therefore, treats the man with contempt. But a great hue and cry
induces the Duke to call upon his guards to protect the women, and, glancing down the street, Adriana is amazed to behold the husband, whom
she thought in the Priory, but whence he has since doubtless escaped by magic arts. Rushing forward, the Ephesian and his man implore the Duke
to protect them, just as the prisoner exclaims that, unless the fear of death has dazed his mind, he beholds his missing son, Antipholus, and
servant, Dromio.

The Ephesian, who has no recollection of his father's face, fails, of course, to recognise the prisoner, to whom he pays no heed, entering instead a
formal complaint against his wife, who has closed his doors upon him, and revelled during his absence. These accusations Adriana and Luciana
hotly deny, insisting that he dined in private with them. The Ephesian now angrily adds he is accused of receiving a chain never delivered to him,
summoned to pay for what he has not received, and arrested and treated like a madman, because he will not yield to the vagaries of those around
him. Hearing this, the Duke cross-questions the goldsmith, who confirms Antipholus' statement that he was locked out of home, but insists he
gave him the chain he saw a moment ago upon his neck. The merchant also vows he saw the chain; and, unable to restrain his curiosity, inquires
how Antipholus escaped from sanctuary. When the Ephesian testily denies ever having been within the Priory walls, as well as all knowledge of
the chain, which the courtesan claims, the Duke comes to the conclusion that all present are mad, for none of his questions elicit the truth.

He has just sent a servant to summon the Abbess, - by whose aid he hopes to solve the mystery,- when the prisoner, stepping forward, announces
that, his son being there to pay his ransom, he can now be liberated immediately. Allowed to explain, Egeon asks Antipholus whether such is not
his name, and whether his servant is not Dromio; but, although the Ephesian admits such is the case, he denies ever having seen the prisoner, who
concludes grief has made him unrecognisable. In his despair, Egeon appeals to the servant, who, like his master, denies all knowledge of him, and
confirms Antipholus' statement that his father was lost at sea. When the prisoner states that Antipholus lived with him in Syracuse for eighteen
years, the Duke himself contradicts him, as he has known the Ephesian all his life. Then, imagining the old man must be doting, he is just bidding
him cease advancng foolish claims, when the Abbess appears, followed by the Syracusan Antipholus and his servant.

Advancing with dignity, the Abbess begs to place under ducal protection a wronged man, and all present start with amazement when they behold
two masters and two servants so exactly alike that none can tell them apart! All present express surprise, Adriana thinking she sees two husbands,
and the Duke wondering which is the mortal man and which the spirit, as it doesn't seem possible two human beings could be such exact
counterparts. Startled at coming face to face, the two Dromios, in sudden terror, implore the Duke to send the other man away, each claiming he
is the only genuine bearer of the name.

Meantime, the Syracusan has no sooner caught a sight of the prisoner, than he joyfully embraces him as father, a recognition his man confirms.
To everybody's surprise, the Abbess also announces he is her long-lost husband Egeon, relating how, after she, one son, and one slave were
rescued, the children were taken from her by cruel pirates, leaving her so bereft that she entered a nunnery, where she has dwelt ever since.

This explanation reveals to the Duke that there are now two Antipholuses in Ephesus, as well as two Dromios; so, to avoid further confusion, he
bids masters and servants stand far apart. Little by little it then becomes clear how the Syracusan and his servant came to town and dined by
mistake with the Ephesian lady, who has been claiming her brother-in-law as husband. The goldsmith admits that the chain he fancied having
given to the Ephesian, was, on the contrary, delivered to the Syracusan, who, never having ordered it, could not be held responsible for its
payment.

When the Syracusan produces the bag of ducats brought by his servant, saying he cannot imagine whence they came, nor why they were given
him, the Ephesian joyfully claims his property, and offers to pay for his father's release, which is no longer necessary, as the Duke has pardoned
him. Last of all, the courtesan claims her ring, which the Ephesian cheerfully returns, having borrowed it merely to tease his wife.

These points being settled, the Abbess invites all present to the Priory, where she intends to celebrate the joyful reunion of parents, sons, and
servants. All, therefore, follow her, save the two Antipholuses and Dromios, whose resemblance is such that, owing to a slight shifting of
position, the Syracusan servant again addresses his master's brother by mistake, offering to remove his luggage from the ship in which he wus
about to sail. For a moment the Ephesian master is again deceived, but his error is soon rectified by his brother, and the twin masters leave the
scene together, leaving the two Dromios face to face.

While the Syracusan servant openly congratulates himself on being brother-in-law and not husband to the objectionable cook, his brother is
pleased to find himself as good-looking as this fraternal reflection proves. But not being able to determine who is the elder, and hence entitled to
precedence, the Dromios leave the stage arm in arm, exclaiming, 'We came into the world like brother and brother; and now let's go hand in hand,
not one before another.'

Love's Labour's Lost: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company (1910).

Act I

The first act opens in the park of the King of Navarre. He enters upon the scene announcing he has decided to lead the contemplative life
hereafter, with three friends, who have sworn to share his studies for the next three years. During this time 'Navarre shall be the wonder of the
world,' and his court 'a little Academe, still and contemplative in living art.' One of these noblemen, Longaville, fancies that during that time 'the
mind shall banquet, though the body pine,' Dumain, that he will enjoy 'living in philosophy,' while the third, Biron, deems it will be easy to study
that length of time, but that the stipulations not to speak to women, to fast, and never to sleep more, than three hours a night, will prove 'barren
tasks, too hard to keep.'

The king, however, assures him that, having joined his company, he will have to keep the oath, although Biron objects it was taken merely in jest.
He declares his private study shall henceforth be how to feast when told to fast, how to meet some lady fair, and wittily demonstrates that such is
the aim and end of all study. His humorous retorts to royal objections fill up the greater part of the scene, the remarks exchanged bristling with
witty epigrams, wherein the poet's talent is freely displayed. Seeing his principal companion has turned restive, the king finally suggests that
Biron leave them to their studies, whereupon the latter rejoins he will remain with them, and sign the paper the king produces. Before doing so,
however, he reads aloud the peculiar item, 'that no woman shall come within a mile of my court,' a decree published four days ago under penalty
that any woman drawing near the palace will lose her tongue. The second item is that any man seen talking to a woman during the next three
years will have to undergo such punishment as his companions decree.

When Biron hints the king himself will be the first to break this rule, since the French King's daughter is on her way to consult with him in regard
to the cession of Aquitane, Navarre admits he forgot that fact when the paper was drawn up, and that there will have to be an exception made in
the princess' favour. Hearing his royal master plead necessity, Biron sagely remarks, 'Necessity will make us all forsworn three thousand times
within this three years' space, for every man with his affects is born!' Nevertheless, he signs the decree, and states that, although he seems 'so
loath,' he is confident he will be 'the last that will last keep his oath!'

When he inquires what recreation is to be granted, the king explains how Armado, a refined traveller from Spain, who 'hath a mint of phrases in
his brain,' will delight them with tales of his native country. Hearing this, Biron seems to be satisfied, but the others frankly admit their chief
amusement will be derived from Costard, the rustic. Just then, this man is brought in by the constable Dull, who also delivers to the king a letter
from Armado. While his majesty is reading it, Costard informs Biron how he was caught with Jaquenetta in the park, and that, although ' it is the
manner of a man to speak to a woman,' he is now to be punished for it.

The king next proceeds to read aloud his letter, wherein, with much wordy circumlocution, Armado describes how he found Costard — whom he
honours with epithets the rustic acknowledges as applicable to him — talking 'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female!' The letter
concludes with the statement that the swain is sent in the constable's custody to the king to be judged, Armado meanwhile keeping the other
delinquent in his house ready to produce her at the king's request. This reading finished, his majesty begins to cross-question Costard, who admits
speaking to a woman, although he insists he did not thereby infringe the law, as it declared any one taken with a 'wench' would be arrested! The
rustic claims that a virgin, damsel, or maid, is not a 'wench,' an excuse the king refuses to accept. He, therefore, decrees that in punishment.
Costard shall fast a week on bran and water, Biron himself delivering him over to Armado, who is to act as keeper during that space of time. Then
the king leaves the scene with two of his friends, while Biron lingers to exclaim he is ready to wager his head 'these oaths and laws will prove an
idle scorn.' This assurance Costard echoes, stating he is suffering for truth's sake ere Dull leads him away.

The next scene is played on the same spot, where Armado is bidding his pupil Moth tell him what it portends when a man grows melancholy.
Then the two indulge in a duel of repartee, wherein they parade their wit and learning. After calling for an explanation of almost every term Moth
uses, Armado finally reveals he has promised to study three years with the king, but has already broken his promise by falling deeply in love with
a lowly maiden. To comfort himself, he has his disciple recapitulate the names of the world's great lovers, and describe the charms of their lady-
loves. Still, Armado avers all pale before the 'white and red' of his own charmer, in whose toils he is completely caught. Next, still hoping to
divert his thoughts, the master invites the pupil to sing, but before the song can begin several persons draw near.

Among them we see the constable Dull, who reports the king has sent Costard to Armado to be detained a prisoner, and has decreed that
Jaquenetta shall remain in the park as dairy-maid. This news pleases Armado, who arranges to visit his new sweetheart at the lodge, ere he
dismisses her and Dull. Then, he entrusts Costard's keeping to Moth, and when they have gone off together, indulges in a soliloquy in regard to
his passion for Jaquenetta, for whose sake he is forsworn, and in whose honour he proposes to indite a sonnet.

Act II

The second act opens before the same park, just as the Princess of France and her train arrive on the scene. The chamberlain, Boyet, now bids his
mistress pluck up spirit, as her father has sent her hither to obtain from the King of Navarre the restoration of Aquitaine. The princess, however,
deeming this task beyond her strength, dreads it, for she counts little upon her physical charms. Besides, she has heard it rumoured Navarre has
withdrawn from society for three years of silent study, during which no woman will be allowed to approach his court! Not daring to brave such a
decree herself, the princess sends her chamberlain into the park, to inform the King of Navarre that the daughter of the King of France is waiting
at his gates for an interview, 'on serious business, craving quick dispatch.'

The chamberlain having departed with cheerful alacrity to execute these orders, the princess inquires of her train whether any of them know the
gentlemen who have joined the king in his studious retirement. When Longaville, Dumain, and Biron are mentioned, Maria, Katharine, and
Rosaline describe in turn how they became acquainted with these lords, each description proving so laudatory on the whole, that the princess
declares all three must be in love, for each has garnished her lover with 'bedecking ornaments of praise!' The ladies have barely finished their
euphuistic descriptions of the three knights, when the chamberlain returns, announcing that, unable to admit them on account of his oath, the King
of Navarre will come out and speak to them at the gate, as that will be no infringement of his word.

A moment later, his majesty appears with his three companions and train, and gallantly bids the fair French princess welcome to his court of
Navarre, When the princess, in return, ironically welcomes him 'to the wide fields,' the king explains with embarrassment that he has sworn an
oath he cannot break. The princess, however, archly predicts it will soon be violated, and enters into a conversation with the king, while Biron
entertains Rosaline, both couples testing each other's mettle in the then fashionable game of repartee.

After some polite verbal skirmishing, the king states the question as he understands it, promising that, as the princess has come to settle the
business in her father's behalf, she shall return 'well satisfied to France again,' although he intimates the King of France's demands are unjust.
When the princess reproaches him with not acknowledging the payments her father has made, Navarre courteously rejoins he has never heard of
them, but is willing, if she proves her case, either to repay the sum in full, or to surrender Aquitaine, which he holds in pledge. Although unable
to produce the required documents on the spot, — for the packet containing them has not yet arrived, — the princess accepts the offer and begs
the king to postpone decision until the morrow. Navarre, therefore, takes courteous leave, again regretting not to be able to receive the fair
princess more worthily within his gates, but assuring her 'here without you shall be so received as you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,
though so denied fair harbour in my house.' Then, returning her gracious farewell with the oft-quoted, 'Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!'
Navarre departs.

Meantime, Biron, who has been conversing with the quick-witted Rosaline, takes leave of her, too, and rejoins his master, while Dumain and
Longaville linger behind to ask the chamberlain the names of two of the princess' attendants who have particularly attracted their notice. It is
quite evident both these gentlemen have fallen in love, as well as Biron, who, as soon as they have gone, returns to ask Boyet Rosaline's name,
and to ascertain whether she is already married.

The gentlemen once out of hearing, Maria declares the last to go was Biron, a man who enjoys the reputation of never uttering a word save in jest.
Such being the case, the chamberlain rejoins he answered the stranger in his own vein, and encouraged by Maria's playfulness, volunteers to kiss
her. She, however, refuses such advances, declaring her lips are 'no common,' and chaffing him until the princess remarks they must save their
wit to exercise it on Navarre and 'his book-men.' Hearing this, the chamberlain gallantly assures his royal mistress the King of Navarre fell so
deeply in love with her at first sight, that, provided she play her part well, he will give her 'Aquitaine and all that is his,' in return for 'one loving
kiss.' Pretending to consider such a remark impertinent, the princess retires to her pavilion, while her maids linger to gibe at Boyet, whom they
term 'an old love-monger,' since he is to be their messenger whenever they wish to communicate with the unapproachable court of Navarre.

Act III

The third act opens in the same place, just as Armado is enjoining upon Moth to sing to him, and after listening to his song, bids him release
Costard, so he can carry a letter to his love. After commenting upon these orders in wordy style, and arguing for a while about love, the pupil
goes, and Armado, the pedant, sinks into melancholy. He is roused from his reflections by Moth's return with Costard, whom he introduces by a
pun, which gives rise to another display of recondite wit on the part of master and pupil. It is only after some time, therefore, that the love-letter is
entrusted to the wondering Costard, who is told to deliver it to Jaquenetta. Delighted with his freedom, and with the gift which the pedant
grandiloquently terms a 'remuneration,' Costard watches master and pupil depart, and then reaches the conclusion that remuneration must be the
Latin for 'three farthings.' Still, as that is a larger sum than he has ever before received, he is so pleased with the term that he vows, 'I will never
buy or sell out of this word.'

The rustic is still commenting upon his unusual luck, when Biron joins him, and, after some talk in regard to the purchasing power of three
farthings, retains his services for the afternoon. Then Biron confides to the rustic that he wishes a letter delivered to Rosaline, one of the ladies in
the princess' train. He has noticed that the ladies daily hunt in this part of the forest, and wishes his 'sealed up counsel,' safely placed in Rosaline's
fair hand. To insure this he now hands Costard, with the letter, a 'guerdon,' which proves to be a whole shilling, thus causing the rustic to hope
none but 'gardons' will henceforth come his way.

The delighted Costard having departed, Biron, in a soliloquy, confesses he has fallen victim to 'Dan Cupid,' whose wiles he eloquently describes,
for he, who has ever made fun of 'his almighty dreadful little might,' is now reduced to 'love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan.'

Act IV

The fourth act, played in the same place, reveals the princess with her hunting train inquiring of the chamberlain whether it was the king who in
the distance, 'spurred his horse so hard against the steep uprising of the hill.' Because the chamberlain seems doubtful, the princess haughtily
remarks that, whoever it was, he showed a 'mounting mind,' and concludes that his majesty's answer is due to-day, and that they will return home
as soon as it is received. Then, turning to the forester, she inquires where she had better post herself, for she prides herself upon her fine shooting.
While conversing wittily with this gentleman forester, and with her chamberlain, the princess is suddenly accosted by Costard, who blunderingly
asks whether she is 'the head lady.' Amused by his awkwardness and simplicity, the princess mystifies him for a while, and then only asks for
whom his message is intended. On learning it is a letter, from Monsieur Biron to Lady Rosaline, the princess takes possession of it, vowing it
shall be read aloud to all present. She, therefore, breaks the seal, and hands it to her chamberlain, who finds it is addressed to Jaquenetta. Still, as
his mistress insists upon hearing it, the chamberlain reads aloud a missive couched in such grandiloquent style that it hugely amuses the princess.
She is still marvelling at its succession of parentheses within parentheses, when Boyet assures her it can have been penned only by Armado, a
fantastic traveller, who 'makes sport to the prince and his book-mates.'

Hearing this, the princess questions the rustic, who artlessly tells her Lord Biron gave him the letter for Lady Rosaline. Coldly informing him he
has made a mistake, the princess hands over the letter to Rosaline, and leaves, followed by most of her train. The chamberlain, lingering behind
with Rosaline, teasingly tries to obtain some information from her, but encounters only clever, evasive answers, couched in the style of the times.
When Rosaline and Katharine have followed their mistress, the chamberlain and Maria pump the rustic, who answers their witticisms in kind
until they leave him with a reproof. Thus left to his own devices. Costard declares he is 'a most simple clown,' whom these lords and ladies are
trying to mystify, but expresses keen admiration for Armado, whose manners in ladies' company seem to him the acme of elegance.

After the rustic has left, the scene is occupied by the schoolmaster Holofernes, the curate Sir Nathaniel, and the constable Dull, who discuss
learnedly about hunting matters, the schoolmaster, in particular, interspersing his remarks with Latin words. which he ostentatiously translates for
the benefit of his companions. They are both duly impressed, although the constable, ignorant of classic tongues, often mistakes a Latin word for
some similar sounding expression in English. The curate, however, charitably explains and excuses such errors, by saying Dull has 'never fed of
the dainties that are bred in a book,' that 'he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink!' These excuses seem somewhat uncalled for by
Dull, who, to exhibit some learning, too, propounds a riddle as old as the hills, which his companions solve without difficulty. This three-
cornered conversation continues until interrupted by the arrival of Jaquenetta and Costard.

Returning their greetings in his pedantic way, the schoolmaster learns that Jaquenetta has received a letter through Costard, which she wishes to
have read aloud to her. After a sonorous Latin quotation from Holofernes, — which the curate admires, — the latter reads aloud Biron's flowery
epistle, couched in verse far too elegant for Jaquenetta to understand. The pedantic schoolmaster, however, criticises the curate's mode of reading
poetry, and vows he did not accent the lines properly. Then he demands of the damsel who the writer of this epistle may be, and when told,
'Biron, one of the strange queen's lords,' glances in surprise at the superscription. Now only, he discovers it is addressed 'to the snow-white hand
of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline,' and notices that the signature is 'your ladyship's in all desired employment, Biron.' From this fact he sagely
concludes the letter has fallen into the wrong hands, and bids Jaquenetta hasten to deliver it to the King of Navarre. Afraid to venture alone,
Jaquenetta again bespeaks Costard's escort, and, after they have gone, the schoolmaster and curate discuss the verses, ere both depart; the former
to dine with one of his pupils, to which meal he invites the constable Dull.

They have barely left this picturesque glade when Biron appears there, holding a paper, and declaring that, while the king is hunting the deer, he
is coursing himself, for love pursues him incessantly and inclines him to melancholy and rhyming. While regretting he should have perjured
himself so soon, he wonders whether his companions are afflicted with the same mad disease, until he suddenly becomes aware the king is
drawing near, and hides in the bushes to take note of what he is doing. Deeming himself alone, the king sighs in such a sentimental way that
Biron exclaims in an aside that his master has fallen victim to Cupid's art. He decides that by lending an attentive ear he may discover the royal
secrets, and is soon rewarded by overhearing Navarre thoughtfully recite some verses he has composed, wherein he reveals how desperately he
has fallen in love with the French princess. These lines he intends to drop in her way, just as Longaville draws near in his turn, also reading aloud.
Wishing to ascertain why his follower is prowling thus alone in the forest, and what he is reading, the king plunges into the bushes, to spy upon
him.

Utterly unconscious of two listeners, Longaville now strolls forward, wailing he is forsworn, which causes the king and Biron to remark
separately that he is acting exactly like a man on the stage. But when the unfortunate man wonders whether he is first to perjure himself, a
whisper from Biron in the bushes avers that three, at least, of their band are guilty of this sin! Meantime, Longaville expresses fear lest his
stubborn lines fail to impress 'sweet Maria, empress of my love,' and seems for a while inclined to tear them up and resort to plain prose. Still,
after perusing them aloud, to the secret entertainment of his listeners, who comment upon his pompous lines, he decides to send them, although
he does not know by what agency.

At this point, Longaville is disturbed in his cogitations by the sound of approaching footsteps, and promptly hides in his turn, while Biron mutters
that they are acting just like children, while he sits aloft like a demigod in the sky, discovering 'wretched fools' secrets.' Unconscious of three
eavesdroppers, Dumain comes in sighing, 'O most divine Kate,' and proceeds to make sundry remarks about his lady-love's charms. Meanwhile,
Biron, the king, and Longaville ironically comment upon his statements, although they all fervently echo his lover-like 'O that I had my wish!'
Dumain, too, reads aloud verses he has composed, which he intends to send with 'something else more plain, that shall express my true love's
fasting pain.' He expresses so ardent a desire that the king, Biron, and Longaville were lovers too, for 'none offend where all alike do dote,' that
Longaville emerges from his hiding place, virtuously exclaiming he
ought to blush to be 'o'erheard and taken napping so!' But, scarcely has
Longaville finished this hypocritical reproof, when the king, issuing from
the bushes in his turn, vows Longaville has doubly offended, since he is
in a similar plight, and has spent considerable time expatiating upon
Maria's charms. This royal reproof, addressed to Longaville, simply
delights Biron, who waits until it is ended, ere he steps out in his turn to
'whip hypocrisy,' for, although he humbly begs his master's pardon, he
cannot refrain from wittily describing how he overheard Navarre
behaving just as sentimentally as Longaville or Dumain. Biron is still
ridiculing all three, — who are covered with confusion to have been
overheard and wince when Biron repeats their speeches, — and has just
launched into a tirade, wherein he states he holds it sin 'to break the vow
I am engaged in,' when tramping is heard, and Jaquenetta and Costard
rush in.

After greeting the king, this couple breathlessly declare they have a paper, which must be treason, and which they hand over to him. While the
king questions the messengers, — who declare the missive was given them by the pedant Armado, — the king carelessly hands it over to Biron,
who no sooner glances at it, than he furiously tears the paper to pieces. His master, wonderingly inquiring why he does this, Biron rejoins it was a
mere trifle, but Dumain and Longaville insist it 'moved him to passion,' and curiously gather up the bits to see what they mean. To Dumain's
surprise he discovers they are in Biron's handwriting! Seeing himself betrayed by Costard's stupidity, Biron now confesses he made fun of his
friends without having any right to do so, seeing he is in the same predicament as they. He acknowledges 'that you three fools lack'd me fool to
make up the mess' and that they four 'are pick-purses in love,' and hence 'deserve to die.' Then, urging his master to dismiss the rustic couple, —
who depart with the virtuous consciousness of having ably fulfilled a weighty duty, — Biron rapturously embraces his fellow-sinners, declaring
sagely, 'young blood doth not obey an old decree.'

When the king asks him whether the torn lines were addressed to some one he loves, Biron enthusiastically launches out into a panegyric of
'heavenly Rosaline,' over whose charms he raves, until the king and his friends proceed just as rapturously to claim the palm of beauty for their
lady-loves. The duo between the king and Biron, who are the readiest speakers, is varied by an occasional quartette, in which Dumain and
Longaville take part, so as to defend and uphold the attractions of their sweethearts. In the course of this fourfold rhapsody and dispute in regard
to the preeminence of their beloveds' charms, these men employ the extravagant euphuistic expressions current at that day to describe female
attractions. Finally, Biron pronounces that the only study worthy of mankind is that of the opposite sex, and declares women's eyes are 'the
ground, the books, the academes, from whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.' The four lovers, therefore, conclude 'it is religion to be thus
forsworn,' and decide, instead of foolishly carrying out their original programme, to lay siege to the hearts of all four ladies. This motion being
enthusiastically carried, plans are made to entertain the ladies in their tents with a series of masques, revels, and dances, each suitor pledging
himself to do his best to entertain his special inamorata, and strew 'her way with flowers.'

Act V
The fifth act opens on the same spot, just as the schoolmaster, the curate, and Dull are expatiating in characteristic fashion upon the enjoyment
they have derived from their meal. The curate and schoolmaster use many pretentious words, until interrupted in their verbal pyrotechnics by the
arrival of the very man whose arts they were discussing. When Armado, with Moth, and Costard have joined them, a conversation is begun,
wherein the learned speakers parade considerable false Latin and make far-fetched puns, while Moth slyly whispers to Costard that 'they have
been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps!' Then, taking his part in the discussion, Moth displays wit which appeals so strongly to
Costard's limited sense of humour, that he bestows upon him the 'remuneration' he received a little while ago.

Finally, Armado informs his companions, in such a maze of words that it is difficult to discover their meaning, that the king and his companions
wish to entertain the ladies with a pageant. Knowing the schoolmaster's and curate's talents in this line Armado has come to bespeak their aid.
Flattered by such a compliment, the schoolmaster enthusiastically suggests they present the 'Nine Worthies,' he himself volunteering to play three
of the parts, and awarding the rest to his companions. When they object that Moth, — whom he selects for Hercules, — is far too small and puny
to suit the character, he readily declares the page shall personate the infant Hercules, and strangle serpents, declaiming an apology of his
composition, while Dull accompanies him on the tabor. This settled, all depart to prepare for this wonderful play.

The princess and her maids now appear in their turn, commenting merrily upon the rich gifts, or fairings, their respective lovers have sent them,
each token being accompanied with verses which they discuss. In the course of this conversation they chaff each other wittily, and exhibit their
letters and gifts. Finally the chamberlain bursts in, almost choking with laughter, bidding them prepare for a great onslaught, and exclaiming,
'Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; or hide your head like cowards, and fly hence!' When the princess eagerly inquires what he means,
he explains that, while dozing beneath a sycamore, he overheard the king and his companions plotting to surprise the four ladies in the guise of
Russian mummers, and laboriously teaching a page the speech he is to recite in herald's guise. Boyet adds, that, after dancing before the ladies,
these Russian lovers will each invite the object of his affections to tread a measure with him, all feeling confident they can recognise even
masked sweethearts, thanks to the ornaments they will doubtless wear.

The princess no sooner learns this merry plot, than she decides to outwit it, and, quick as a flash, exchanges tokens with her companions, so that
each Russian will lead away the wrong masked lady, to whom he will doubtless make a formal proposal. Her intention is 'to cross theirs,' for she
feels sure 'they do it but in mocking merriment,' and is, therefore, anxious to pay them back in their own coin. Her conclusion that 'there's no such
sport as sport by sport o'erthrown,' meets with such approval from the other three ladies, that they promptly assume masks as soon as trumpets are
heard, and prepare to carry out the deception they have planned to bewilder their disguised suitors.

A moment later the promised entertainment is ushered in, the page Moth marching ahead, prepared to recite his piece. He remembers it, however,
so imperfectly, that the attitude of the ladies, — who, instead of facing him, suddenly turn their backs upon him, — puts him out entirely.
Although Biron frantically prompts him, the poor youth gets so tangled up that he finally flees in disgrace! Because she personates the princess,
Rosaline now haughtily inquires of the chamberlain who these people may be, and asks that they make known the purpose of their call. When the
chamberlain replies they have come to dance before her, she seems to hesitate; still, after exchanging a few witticisms on the subject with Boyet
and Biron, permits them, at the king's request, to exhibit their talents. She and her companions, however, utterly refuse to tread a measure with
them; but in spite of this refusal, the king and his friends manage to lead aside the ladies wearing their respective tokens, whom they, therefore,
naturally suppose to be the objects of their love. In this part of the scene the king is paired with Rosaline, the princess with Biron, Longaville with
Katharine, and Dumain with Maria, and each lady proceeds to lead her lover on and flout him wittily. All four suitors finally depart, having
derived little satisfaction from this coveted interview, although each has manfully tried to make the depth of his attachment clear.

Boyet, the amused spectator of these asides, wisely remarks 'the tongues of mocking wenches are as keen as is the razor's edge invisible,' and
when the Russians have gone, laughingly compares them to tapers 'with your sweet breaths puff'd out,' before each lady describes how her swain
proposed to her. They laugh merrily over all the speeches, but, convinced the suitors will soon reappear, retire to their tents to remove their
masks, and restore the borrowed tokens to their rightful owners. They intend, however, to continue the game, by facetiously describing to the
king and his companions the ridiculous mummers who have just visited them.

While they are still in their tents, the King of Navarre returns with his three companions, dressed as usual, and inquires of the chamberlain where
the princess may be. After courteously rejoining she is in her tent, Boyet hastens thither to announce to his mistress that the King of Navarre
craves audience. During his absence, Biron, who has repeatedly exchanged witticisms with the chamberlain, remarks that this fellow 'pecks up
wit as pigeons pease, and utters it again when God doth please,' a very good sample of much of the wit in this play.

In a few moments the princess reappears, followed by her ladies, and, after returning the king's greeting, refuses his tardy invitation to enter the
park, insisting she cannot be a party to his breaking his vows. Besides, she avers she has not been dull, and, to prove it, describes how they have
just been entertained by 'a mess of Russians!' Then Rosaline exclaims that throughout the hour these men spent with them, they 'did not bless us
with one happy word,' a cutting remark resented by Biron, who returns that her wit 'makes wise things foolish,' This proves the signal for a new
sparring match, in the course of which Rosaline routs Biron utterly by revealing that she and her companions saw through their disguise. Finding
himself detected, Biron promises never again to try and deceive Rosaline, but invites her to bruise him with scorn, confound him with a flout,
thrust her sharp wit quite through his ignorance, and cut him to pieces with her keen conceit!

Meanwhile, the king having also craved the princess' pardon, she bids him confess what he whispered in his lady's ear when last he was here.
When Navarre rejoins how he assured her 'that more than all the world' he did respect her, the princess asks whether he will reject that lady's hand
in case she claims him. Hearing him swear, 'Upon my honour, no,' the princess summons Rosaline, and bids her state exactly what her Russian
suitor whispered in her pretty ear. When Rosaline repeats Navarre's speech, word for word, his amazed majesty exclaims he never swore love to
Rosaline, but to the princess, who wore his token!
Thereupon the princess drily informs him how on that day Rosaline wore his jewels, and he, turning to Biron, vows some 'carry tale' must have
betrayed their secret. They are just accusing the chamberlain of doing so; and the whole matter is barely cleared up, and the Russians forced to
acknowledge they have been defeated in a brave and merry tilt, when Costard awkwardly enters upon the scene, inquiring whether they would
like to see the Nine Worthies, who have come. As three men only have entered, Biron playfully inquires where the nine may be, only to hear the
simple Costard as sure him that three times three is nine, for each man will take three parts. To tease him, Biron tangles him up with questions he
cannot understand. Undeterred by all this, Costard demands again whether the company are ready to see the Nine Worthies, volunteering that he
is to play the part of 'Pompion the Great.' Gracious permission being granted the Worthies to appear, the clown hurries out, while the king
murmurs this man will surely disgrace them; but Biron comforts him with the assurance it will be good policy to let the ladies see a worse show
than that presented by 'the king and his company.' Besides, the princess insists upon seeing the production, as 'that sport best pleases that doth
least know how.'

A moment later Don Armado enters, and, after conversing a while apart with the king, hands him a paper. Meanwhile the princess wonderingly
asks Biron whether this man serves God, for his speech is so bombastic and involved that it proves almost unintelligible. When Armado
disappears, assuring them the schoolmaster is 'exceeding fantastical,' all prepare for the appearance of the promised Nine Worthies. Costard, the
first player, enters on the scene, tricked out as Pompey, and has scarcely uttered a few words of his speech when the chamberlain contradicts him,
and soon succeeds in putting him out. Such is Costard's confusion, that he finally piteously entreats the princess to say 'thanks Pompey,' and thus
grant him the privilege to withdraw. To humour the rustic, the princess promptly complies, and. Costard having vanished, the curate appears,
personating Alexander. He, too, is so guyed by Boyet and Biron that he is soon obliged to leave the scene.

The rustic now reappears, jealously remarking the curate represented Alexander no better than he did Pompey, and announcing that the
schoolmaster will personate Judas Maccabeus, and his disciple, Hercules. After introducing the infant Hercules, in a mixture of Latin and
English, Judas Maccabeus vainly tries to play his own part, but is prevented from doing so by numerous interruptions on the part of the
spectators, whose unkind remarks drive him away in despair before he has finished his speech. When the pedant comes on the stage as Hector, he,
too, is mocked by all present, even by the princess, who claims she has been hugely entertained by their performance. Her commendations merely
amuse the other spectators, who keep up their gibes, until Costard blurts out that Don Armado is not the hero he tries to appear, but merely a good
for nothing wretch, unless he right poor Jaquenetta. Such an accusation results, naturally, in a vehement quarrel, which the gentlemen enjoy, until
their attention is diverted.

The interruption is caused by the arrival of a French courtier, who bears so sober a face that even before he can voice his message the princess
exclaims her father must be dead! Such being, indeed, the case, Biron dismisses the Worthies, who seem glad to escape without further ado,
although Armado mutters he will 'right himself like a soldier.' The king now tenderly implores the princess to tarry in Navarre a while longer, but
she assures him they must start for home that very evening. Then, with courteous thanks for his fair entertainment, which her 'new-sad soul' will
not allow her to mention any further, she bids him farewell.

The King of Navarre, who regrets her visit should have been marred by bad news, vows he will not annoy her at present with 'the smiling
courtesy of love,' although he fully intends to renew his 'holy' suit later on. It is, as Biron assures her, for her sake and that of her fair companions,
that the king and his friends have violated their oaths, a fact of which the princess is fully aware, all the letters they have forwarded having been
duly received. Still, as it is not fitting to answer love missives at present, the princess gravely bids her suitor show his constancy by retiring into a
hermitage for a year, spending his time there, remote from the pleasures of the world, and promising to reward him at the end of that period, in
case he still feels the same devotion for her. Meanwhile, she will pass the year mourning for her parent's death. Such a term of probation seems
neither too long nor too hard a test for Navarre's love, for he solemnly rejoins:

If this, or more than this, I would deny, to flatter up these sudden powers of mine with rest, the sudden hand of death close up mine eye!'
Meantime, turning to Rosaline, Biron entreats an answer to his suit, only to be told that if he wishes to obtain her favour, he must spend a twelve-
month tending the sick. Dumain is bidden wait a year, grow a beard, and prove he is to be trusted, while Maria coyly promises at the end of the
year to lay aside her mourning and reward 'a faithful friend.'

When Biron, unsatisfied, inquires from Rosaline exactly what he is to do, this lady informs him that, before she ever saw him, she had been told
he was a man 'replete with mocks, full of comparisons and wounding flouts.' She, therefore, enjoins upon him to 'weed this wormwood' from his
fruitful brain if he would please her, and use his wit only 'to enforce the painted impotent to smile,' and cheer and divert those who are in pain. At
first Biron exclaims what she requires is an impossibility, but Rosaline urges him to make the effort, and thus learn that 'a jest's propriety lies in
the ear of him that hears it, never in the tongue of him that makes it.'

When the ladies again express regrets and farewells, the King of Navarre and his friends assure them they will escort them part way, and all are
about to leave the scene, when Don Armado announces they have not heard him vow to turn fanner for Jaquenetta's sake, and have missed the
best part of his entertainment, the dialogue in praise of the owl and the cuckoo. To gratify Don Armado, the king orders him to present the
dialogue; whereupon schoolmaster, curate, disciple, and clown return to the scene, respectively personating Winter and Spring, the owl and the
cuckoo. This part of the play consists in a graceful spring song with a coarse refrain, and a descriptive ditty of winter's cold, during which the owl
chants his mournful song.

The curtain falls after the last rustic refrain, and just as the pedant wisely remarks that 'the words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo!'
Then the king and ladies depart in one direction, while the extempore actors vanish in the other.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I

This play opens in a square in Verona, where Valentine, talking to his friend Proteus, announces he is about to depart for Milan, where he would
fain have his friend accompany him were not the latter Love's slave. Although it is impossible for him to leave Verona, Proteus ironically
promises to pray for his friend, who retorts a lover's risks are as great as those of travellers.

After Valentine has gone, promising to let his friend hear from him, Proteus avers that, whereas Valentine is evidently hunting for honours, he is
wholly absorbed in his passion for Julia, who has made him forget everything else. His soliloquy is interrupted by the arrival of Valentine's
servant, inquiring for his master. Before answering, Proteus tries to find out from this man, whom he had employed as messenger to Julia,
whether he has delivered his letter, rewarding him for his witty remarks by a tip. But, the servant gone, Proteus begins to doubt whether his
missive were delivered, and concludes to send another messenger to make sure that Julia doesn't remain without news.

We next behold Julia's garden, where she is interviewing her maid, Lucetta, of whom she takes advice in her love affairs. After her mistress has
enumerated her various suitors, Lucetta comments upon each, shrewdly noticing, however, that Julia reserves all mention of Proteus to the last.
She, therefore, gives a favourable verdict in regard to this swain, ere proffering the letter brought by Valentine's man. Having pretended
indifference all along, Julia scornfully refuses to accept Proteus' letter, but no sooner has the maid carried it off than she longs to call her back,
ruefully admitting that girls in love often act contrary to their feelings. She, therefore, summons Lucetta under some futile pretext, and when the
maid ostentatiously drops the missive at her feet, angrily bids her cease annoying her. Then, as the servant, whose remarks exasperate her, is
about to remove the offending paper, Julia suddenly snatches it and tears it to pieces, ordering Lucetta to leave the fragments on the ground.

Left alone, the fickle Julia bewails having torn her lover's letter, and, longing to discover what it contains, pieces the bits together. Although
unable to restore it entirely, she discovers a few scraps bearing affectionate words, which she hides away in her bosom, ere Lucetta summons her
to join her father at dinner. In passing off the stage, Julia carelessly mentions the papers on the floor, knowing there is nothing more among them
she cares to see.

We are next transferred to Proteus' house, where, talking to a servant, his father learns people are wondering his son should linger at home while
other youths of his age and station are sent abroad to study. Not wishing Proteus to lack advantages other young men enjoy, the father decides to
send him off on the morrow to join Valentine, fancying that at the Milanese court his son will soon learn the accomplishments which will
transform him into a graceful cavalier.

It is at this moment that Proteus enters, pouring over a letter he has just received from Julia in answer to his partly read epistle. But, when his
father inquires what he is reading, Proteus mendaciously replies that he has heard from Valentine, now abroad. His father begging to see the
letter, Proteus refuses to show it, volunteering instead that his friend is inviting him to come to Milan, too. Thereupon the father announces
Proteus may go thither, and, although the youth tries to postpone the moment of departure, insists upon his leaving the next day and hurries off
with the servant to make preparations for the journey.

Left alone, Proteus bitterly regrets the vain falsehood which now parts him from his beloved Julia, but has little time to devote to remorse, as the
servant soon returns, bidding him join his father.

ACT II

The second act opens in the palace in Milan, where Valentine is conversing with his servant, who, by mistake, hands him a glove belonging to the
Duke's daughter Silvia, with whom Valentine has meantime fallen in love. Having discovered his master's passion, the servant ably describes
love's symptoms, revealing plainly how he has watched his master stare at his lady-love. But when Valentine rapturously vows the lady's
attractions are such that no one can refrain from doing so, his man wittily avoids being entrapped into the admission that she is the most beautiful
person on earth.

Next Valentine confides to his man that Silvia has bidden him write lines addressed to one beloved lines he has found difficult to compose. Just
then Silvia enters, and while Valentine greets her, his servant withdraws to the background, whence he slyly comments on all his master says and
does. He thus overhears Valentine explain that, although he has composed the required poem, it fails to satisfy him, adding that, had he addressed
one he loved, he could have displayed far more eloquence.

After coolly glancing at the paper he proffers, Silvia admits the lines are quaintly written, but soon after returns them, stating she would prefer
something more spontaneous, and suggests he write from his heart, since that will insure fluency.
When Silvia has gone after this criticism, the servant remarks that the lady is teaching his master his duty, as she evidently expects him to write
her a love-letter. But, however welcome, these tidings seem too incredible to Valentine, who displays all the diffidence of the true lover.

The next scene is played in Verona, in Julia's house, where Proteus is reluctantly bidding farewell to his lady-love, promising to return from
Milan as soon as possible, and exchanging keepsake rings with her. When she has left, Proteus dwells with intense satisfaction upon the emotion
she has shown, and the tears choking her voice, delightful memories over which he gloats until his father's servant summons him away.

In the same town, but out in the street, Proteus' servant is next seen giving vent to uncouth sorrow at parting from the various members of his
family, whose farewells he describes. But, although every one else sheds plentiful tears at his going, he sorrowfully remarks his dog remained
stolid throughout the farewell scenes, which he reproduces in pantomime. At this point he is interrupted by a fellow servant, who bids him hasten
to join his master, vowing that they will otherwise miss the tide. In the course of their talk, these two men exchange puns and indulge in a war of
wit, they two being the fun-makers in the play.

The curtain next rises in the Duke's palace at Milan, where Silvia is talking to Valentine, although the fact that she does so enrages Sir Thurio, the
suitor her father favours. Even Valentine's servant notices his irritation ere leaving the room, and, before many moments pass, the rival lovers
begin twitting each other in the lady's presence. Seeing Sir Thurio finally change colour, Valentine pokes fun at him, but although he scores him,
he nevertheless manages at the same time to compliment Silvia, whose favour he is anxious to win.

This three-cornered, bitter-sweet conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the Duke, reporting news has just come from Valentine's father,
announcing Proteus' speedy arrival. On hearing his friend is on the way, Valentine praises him as a charming and well-informed young man; his
encomiums becoming so enthusiastic that the Duke declares such a youth must be worthy of an empress' affections. He therefore bids his
daughter and Sir Thurio welcome him cordially ere leaving the room. Valentine then explains to Silvia that this is the gentleman whose love
affairs have afforded her so much entertainment, before Proteus is ushered in and presented to her. She admits him to the circle of her followers,
proving so gracious, that the youth, who has hitherto been wrapped up in his Julia, suddenly forgets her, to fall madly in love with his friend's
sweetheart.

A summons from the Duke, forcing Silvia to leave the apartment with Sir Thurio, she bids Valentine and Proteus use that opportunity to discuss
home news, knowing they have a great deal to say to each other. Almost immediately Valentine confesses that, whereas his friend's talk of love
once bored him, he now cares to converse on no other subject, having himself become victim to the tender passion.

When Proteus inquires who the object of his devotion may be, Valentine not only admits he loves Silvia, but that he is so beloved by her in
return, adding that, as the Duke refuses to countenance any suitor but Sir Thurio, they have decided to elope that very night. In reply to his
friend's questions, Valentine explains how he is to climb to his lady's bower by means of a rope ladder, and bear her away. Then, having secured
his friend's aid for the elopement, Valentine leaves the room; whereupon Proteus wonders that one love should so soon have driven the other out
of his head, his passion of Julia having thawed 'like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,' until it now 'bears no impression of the thing it was.' Because he
wishes to win Silvia himself, Proteus suddenly determines, 'If I can check my erring love, I will; if not, to compass her I'll use my skill.'

Meantime, in the streets of Milan, the servants of Valentine and Proteus meet, exchanging welcomes, remarks, and comments on their masters'
affairs. In the course of this conversation, the one confides that his master took sad leave of Julia, after exchanging rings with her, there having
not been time to marry, while the other propounds conundrums and makes puns, both servants evidently deriving considerable entertainment
from quizzing each other.

The curtain again rises in the palace, where Proteus is still pondering how to supplant his friend in Silvia's affections. Although fully realising he
will be foresworn should he forsake Julia and betray his friend, the temptation proves too strong to resist. After some specious reasoning,
therefore, Proteus persuades himself that charity begins at home, and that, as Silvia so far surpasses Julia in attractions, he must win her for his
own.

He, therefore, decides to reveal Valentine's plot to the Duke, knowing the latter will prove grateful for such a warning, and will speedily banish
the unwelcome suitor in hopes of forcing his daughter to accept Sir Thurio, a rival who appears far less dangerous than Valentine, and whom he
can easily outwit.

The next scene is played in Verona, in Julia's house, where, after calling Lucetta into council, she bids her devise means whereby she can journey
to Milan, to rejoin the lover whom she misses so sorely. Although the handmaiden offers sundry objections, Julia declares she 'hath Love's wings
to fly,' vowing that, unless the journey be undertaken pretty soon, she will pine away for lack of her beloved.

As all objections only increase her ardour for the journey, the servant finally ceases to oppose Julia, and inquires what disguise she proposes to
assume. Having determined on a page's garb, Julia discusses with her maid the cut and style of the costume she is to wear. But even so interesting
a subject as this cannot long divert her attention from Proteus, whom she praises to the skies, mentioning his tears at the moment of parting as
proof of his affection. The maid, however, does not consider tears convincing, for she merely remarks she hopes her mistress may find Proteus as
faithful in Milan as in Verona, ere she departs to prepare for the journey.

ACT III
The third act opens in the palace in Milan, just as the Duke is dismissing Sir Thurio to give audience to Proteus. Taking advantage of his first
private interview with the Duke, Proteus, after sundry false protestations of fidelity to his friend and of loyalty to his master, finally confesses that
duty forces him to reveal that Valentine plans to elope with Silvia that very night; adding, sanctimoniously, that, although asked to become an
accomplice in this deed, he cannot reconcile it to his conscience to do so.

After expressing gratitude for Proteus' warning, the Duke confesses his suspicions have been so roused for some time past that his daughter now
lodges in a tower of which the key is always in his own custody. Although he, therefore, fancies Silvia safe, Proteus proves how Love laughs at
locksmiths by informing him of the rope-ladder scheme, which is to enable the lady to escape. Having thus thoroughly exposed his friend's plans,
Proteus implores the Duke not to betray him, and leaves the room, calling his attention to Valentine's approach.

Turning to the new-comer, who endeavours to steal past him, concealing a rope-ladder beneath his cloak, the Duke inquires what he is carrying,
only to hear it is a parcel of letters. But Valentine displays considerable annoyance when the Duke detains him to discuss his daughter's projected
alliance with Sir Thurio, although he tries to disguise his impatience by saying it would be a fine match, and by inquiring how the lady views the
swain.

Thereupon the Duke exclaims his daughter is undutiful, as she has refused to accept his choice. He professes to be angry enough to cast her off,
consoling himself for her loss by marrying again. When Valentine inquires how he can serve the Duke in so delicate a matter, this nobleman
replies he is anxious to learn the newest methods for courting. Valentine thereupon suggests that he woo his lady-love with gifts, and when the
Duke vows she scorns his presents, assures him that no lady's refusals are to be taken seriously. He winds up his lecture on courtship by saying,
'That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.'

When the Duke describes how inaccessible this lady is, Valentine suggests his visiting her by night, bidding him use a rope-ladder to reach her.
This scheme appeals to his grace, who minutely inquires what such a ladder may be, and where it can be procured. Whereupon Valentine
promises to supply him with one that very evening, advising him to wear a cloak like his, so he can carry it unnoticed.

The Duke, who has been asking all these questions with a purpose in view, now insists upon removing the cloak from Valentine's shoulders to try
it on; thereby revealing the fact that the youth is carrying a letter addressed to Silvia, and a rope-ladder such as he has described. After taking
possession of the letter, the Duke reads it aloud, only to discover that it contains eloquent protestations of affection, and a promise to free Silvia
that very night.

Turning upon Valentine, the Duke now reviles him as an impudent wretch, who has presumed to raise his eyes to his daughter, vowing he shall be
exiled from court and slain if caught within the limits of his territory!

After pronouncing this stern decree the Duke departs, while Valentine wails that to leave Silvia is equivalent to death, and that no happiness
remains to him on earth if he cannot see her. Still, mindful of the ducal threats he dares not tarry, and is about to flee to save his life.

It is at this moment Proteus appears, calling to his servant to find Valentine, whom he seems rejoiced to discover here. He announces, however,
that he is bearer of bad news, and when Valentine anxiously inquires whether any harm has befallen Silvia, replies that a recent ducal
proclamation exiles him from Milan. When Valentine asks whether Silvia is aware of this decree, Proteus describes her tears, saying she fell at
her father's feet and implored him with clasped hands to spare her lover. Her grief and intercession, however, only added fuel to the Duke's wrath,
making him decree her imprisonment, which news adds bitterness to Valentine's sorrow.

In attempting to comfort his friend, Proteus bids him remember that 'hope is a lover's staff,' ere he urges him to depart, promising to transmit his
letters to Silvia. Thereupon Valentine bids his friend's servant notify his own man to meet him at the north gate, ere he leaves the stage arm in
arm with Proteus. They have barely gone when the servant remarks that Proteus is a knave, having cheated his friend out of his lady-love. He,
therefore, concludes it better not to tell any one of his own love affairs, although immediately thereafter he begins talking to himself of the
milkmaid he is wooing, whose perfections he has jotted down upon a paper.

It is while he is conning this list, that Valentine's servant enters; so both men begin one of their sparring, punning conversations, in the course of
which Valentine's man snatches the paper from his companion's hand and rattles off the lady's faults and virtues. Only when considerable time
has been wasted in this manner, does Proteus' man suddenly remember to deliver his message, and Valentine's man hurries off to join his master,
while his companion gleefully comments that he will probably be beaten for his delay.

The next scene is played in the palace, where the Duke is interviewing Sir Thurio, assuring him that, now Valentine is banished, he will soon be
able to win his daughter's favour. This reasoning does not, however, convince Sir Thurio, who explains that, since Valentine's departure, the lady
has been most unkind. Their conversation is interrupted by the entrance of Proteus, from whom the Duke inquires whether Valentine has gone,
commenting on his daughter's grief at his banishment.

When Proteus assures him this sorrow will soon cease, the Duke gladly agrees, while Sir Thurio continues despondent. Meantime, entirely
deceived by Proteus' pretended devotion to him and to his daughter, the Duke pours out into the youth's ear complaints in regard to Silvia's
perversity in continuing to love a suitor of whom her father does not approve. In hopes of changing the young lady's mind, the Duke also begs
Proteus to visit her frequently, slandering his friend whenever he has access to her, so as to undermine her affection for Valentine.

It is under pretence of serving the Duke that Proteus accepts this charge, being secretly delighted with the opportunity it affords him to be with
the lady, press his own suit, and win her favour. Still, to throw dust in the eyes of the father who deems him safe because betrothed, Proteus bids
Sir Thurio compose sonnets in honour of his lady-love and serenade her. This advice is approved by the Duke, who pronounces Proteus an expert
lover, and Sir Thurio gravely promises to carry it out, leaving the room immediately in quest of musicians to serenade Silvia that evening.
ACT IV

The fourth act opens on the frontiers of Mantua, in a forest, where outlaws are watching all the paths to arrest travellers. When the brigands,
therefore, behold Valentine and his servant, they challenge them to stand and deliver, although their victims claim they have nothing save their
clothes, having just been exiled from Milan.

Having suffered a similar penalty, the outlaws eagerly inquire for what cause Valentine has been banished ; whereupon he pretends to have
fought a duel in which his opponent was fairly slain. As such a murder seems perfectly legitimate to the outlaws, they fraternally invite Valentine
to join them, explaining that they, too, have been exiled for like offences. Next, they invite Valentine to become their chief, threatening to kill
him unless he complies; so he determines to make a virtue of necessity, provided they will pledge themselves to 'do no outrages on silly women
or poor passengers;' for, like Robin Hood, he is willing to despoil the rich, but eager to protect the poor.

The next scene is played in Milan beneath Silvia's window, where Proteus stands alone, commenting upon his treachery to his friend and his
proposed disloyalty to Sir Thurio, whose suit he is pretending to further. He adds that, although granted free access to Silvia, he has not yet been
able to undermine her trust in his friend, and that she reproaches him for disloyalty to Julia, his former sweetheart, whenever he tries to make love
to her. Although Silvia has been so unkind that any other suitor would feel discouraged, Proteus declares that, 'spaniel-like, the more she spurns
my love, the more it grows and fawneth on her still.'

His soliloquy is interrupted by the arrival of Sir Thurio with musicians to serenade Silvia, and it is while the performers are tuning their
instruments that Julia, disguised as a page, is led into the background by the host, who has brought a despondent guest into this garden, hoping to
cheer him with music. As they enter, the host declares the page will here see the gentleman concerning whom he inquired. Then, after decrying
the singing of a dainty sonnet, the page asks whether Proteus ever visits Silvia, only to learn that his servant reports him madly in love with the
Duke's daughter. Besides, the host volunteers, this servant has just been sent to procure a dog, to be offered to the lady in his master's name on the
morrow.

The serenaders now leave, and Sir Thurio follows them, promising to meet Proteus on the next day. All have gone when Silvia opens her
window, and thus Proteus receives the thanks intended for the serenader. When he fervently exclaims he is always anxious to fulfil her wishes,
Silvia bids him cease annoying her with attentions, and return to his former lady-love. Thereupon, Proteus swears Julia is dead a remark which
Silvia answers indignantly, while Julia softly vows that, although she may be dead, she is not yet buried. When Proteus ventures to assert that
Valentine, too, has passed away, Silvia refuses to believe him, but is weak enough to yield to a flattering request for her picture, vowing,
however, that it will speak to him in the same strain as she does herself.

After Silvia and Proteus have withdrawn, the page rouses his nodding host to inquire where Proteus now lodges, as he wishes to visit him. Then,
all being quiet on the scene, Sir Eglamour, a knight-errant, steals near, having come to receive Silvia's orders. At his call, the fair lady opens her
window and begs him to escort her, when she leaves home on the morrow to avoid marrying, the suitor her father is forcing her to accept. She
adds that she can trust Sir Eglamour, knowing he has vowed fidelity to the memory of his beloved, and implores him to take her to Mantua,
where she hopes to rejoin Valentine. She also agrees to meet Sir Eglamour at the cell of a holy friar, where she often goes for confession, and all
arrangements being completed, both leave the stage.

A while later the scene is occupied by Sir Proteus' servant, with the dog he took to Silvia. It is not, however, the choice animal his master wished
to bestow upon his lady-love, but his own cur, whose training has little fitted him for a lady's drawingroom. A moment later Proteus comes upon
the scene, talking to the page, whom he fails to recognise, but whose appearance is so prepossessing that he wishes to employ him as messenger
to Silvia. On discovering his servant's presence, Proteus inquires how the lady received his gift, only to be told she refused the dog with scorn, a
refusal quite comprehensible to Proteus when he discovers that his man offered her a cur in his name.

While the servant departs in quest of the valuable animal which he claims was stolen from him, Proteus resumes his conversation with the page,
bidding him carry a ring to Silvia which was once given him by one who loved him dearly. When the page artlessly inquires whether the giver is
dead, Proteus denies it; so the page pities the lady, hinting she may have loved him as passionately as he now loves Silvia, remarks to which
Proteus pays no heed. Instead, he directs his emissary how to reach the lady, bidding him claim, in exchange for the ring, the promised picture.

When Proteus has gone, Julia comments upon the strange fate which makes her the bearer of such a message, and compels her to carry her own
ring to the person who has supplanted her in her lover's affections. Instead of pleading Proteus' cause, as has been enjoined upon her, Julia intends
to do the contrary, and, therefore, eagerly questions a lady who steps upon the scene. On ascertaining it is Silvia, the page delivers both message
and ring, claiming the picture which he is sent to procure. Silvia not only refuses to read Proteus' letter, but tears it up contemptuously, declaring
she has no respect for the writer. Then she spurns the ring, knowing it was given to him by a lovely lady he once loved, and adding that she will
never so wrong a fellow-woman.

At these words the page heartily thanks her, and when Silvia wonderingly inquires whether it is because he knows the lady in question, vows he
is as well acquainted with Julia as with himself. He adds that this lady was once dearly beloved by Proteus, and describes her beauty and figure,
saying she is exactly his height, for she once allowed him to wear her garments to act a play. All this information proves vividly interesting to
Silvia, who bestows a reward upon the page ere leaving the scene with her attendants.

The page now has an occasion to comment upon her generosity to a stranger, her gentle compassion for a forsaken lady, and her loyalty to her
own sex and lover. Then, in the picture which has been delivered to him, he studies Silvia's attractions, ascertaining with delight that she is no
better looking than Julia, who, he hopes, may some time recover Proteus' love.

ACT V
The fifth act is begun in the friar's cell, where Sir Eglamour is waiting at sunset for Silvia, who is to join him there. When he sees her appear, he
greets her eagerly, only to be told to go and await her at the postern gate, as she fears they may be spied upon. To reassure her, Sir Eglamour
states the forest is near, and that, once within its mazes, they will be safe from pursuit.

The next scene is played in the palace, where Sir Thurio is questioning Proteus in regard to his prospects of winning Silvia. He seems delighted
when told he has made progress, the lady only criticising certain defects in his person, which he proposes to remedy by altering his dress,
although the page, present in the background, saucily comments such alterations will be of no avail.

After some more conversation, devoted to feeding Sir Thurio's vanity, the Duke comes in, inquiring whether Sir Eglamour and his daughter have
been seen. It soon becomes evident Silvia has fled with the knight, a friar reporting having seen them both in the forest, near the cell where Silvia
goes for confession. In his indignation at his daughter's escape, the Duke bids both young men accompany him in pursuit of the fugitives, whom
he hopes to overtake before they cross the frontier.

The Duke having gone, Sir Thurio vows it is a peevish girl who tries to escape such a suitor as himself, and decides to join the pursuit only to
avenge the insult Sir Eglamour has put upon him. Meantime, Proteus decides to join the expedition for love of Silvia, and the page so as to outwit
his treacherous plans.

We next behold the forest on the frontier of Mantua, where outlaws have just seized Silvia, whom they are leading away to their captain. By their
conversation we discover Sir Eglamour has managed to escape, and that, while two of their number are pursuing him, the rest are accompanying
the lady to their chief's cave, where they promise her honourable treatment. Meantime, in another part of the forest, Valentine is cogitating over
his position in this solitude, and dreaming of the lady whom he loves so dearly, but cannot see. In spite of his abstraction, however, he soon
becomes aware of some commotion in the forest, and idly wonders what travellers his companions have arrested.

Just then he beholds an advancing group, consisting of Proteus, Silvia, and Julia, still disguised as a page. Having surprised the outlaws leading
Silvia away, Proteus has boldly rescued her, and is now claiming as reward some mark of her favour, which she still refuses to bestow upon him.
Overhearing this, Valentine can scarcely credit his ears, and listens intently when Silvia wails that she would rather have been seized by a hungry
lion than by so false a man as Proteus. She adds that the love she bears Valentine is so true she cannot but despise his treacherous friend, who
should be ashamed of forgetting the loyalty due to Valentine and his oaths to Julia. Then, she concludes by urging Proteus to show greater fidelity
to both lady-love and friend, paying no heed to his arguments in defence of his passion. But, when Proteus attempts to lay forcible hands upon
Silvia to bend her to his will, Valentine suddenly steps forward, bidding him desist, and reviling him for conduct he never would have credited.

Being thus confronted by Valentine's contempt, Proteus, suddenly realising how deeply he has sinned, makes an humble apology, which
Valentine accepts, being generous enough to pardon any injury done him, and saying, 'Who by repentance is not satisfled is not of heaven nor
earth.' Then, thinking it possible Silvia may love his friend better than himself, and that only virtue keeps her loyal, Valentine magnanimously
offers to relinquish all rights to her. Afraid this will prevent her recovering her lover, Julia now faints away, so both men hasten to the rescue of
the fainting page. On recovering his senses, the page exclaims he has been very remiss, for he has not yet delivered the ring which Proteus bade
him give Silvia. But Proteus now perceives with surprise it is no longer the token he gave the page, but that which Julia received as his parting
gift. An explanation ensues, in the course of which Proteus discovers the page is Julia, who has assumed male garb only to follow him. The
devotion she has shown so touches him that he declares himself cured of inconstancy, and glad to return to his former allegiance.

This conclusion pleases Valentine, who bestows his blessing upon the reunited lovers, just as the outlaws bring in the Duke and Sir Thurio, whom
they have captured in the forest. The brigands seem delighted to have secured such a prize, but Valentine no sooner recognises the Duke than he
does obeisance to him, bidding his men immediately set him free.

Surprised to discover Valentine and his daughter together, the Duke does not interfere when Valentine demands that Sir Thurio relinquish all
rights to Silvia or forfeit his life. When Sir Thurio promptly acquiesces, asseverating 'I hold him but a fool who will endanger his body for a girl
that loves him not' this statement proves to the Duke that he is too much of a coward to strike a single blow to defend his claim to Silvia. Besides,
the father is now so struck with admiration for Valentine, that he bids him marry his daughter and return to court, where, bygones being forgotten,
they can begin a new life.

This consent to his marriage charms Valentine, who takes courage to beg another boon, which the Duke graciously promises to grant, whatever it
may be. Then Valentine eloquently pleads in behalf of the outlaws, all of w r hom are pardoned and reinstated, after promising to become good
citizens.

This settled, all return to Milan, Valentine promising to shorten the way by an account of his adventures, and explaining that the youthful page is
none other than the fair Julia, who has come hither in quest of a recreant lover. The only punishment inflicted upon Proteus consists in an
exposition of his treacherous plans, ere he is allowed to marry Julia, while Valentine espouses Silvia, and all thereafter enjoy 'one feast, one
house, one mutual happiness.'

Much Ado About Nothing: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd, Mead and company.

Act I
The opening of the first act shows Leonato, Governor of Messina, standing before his house with his daughter Hero, and niece Beatrice, to
receive the gentleman messenger, announcing the victorious return of Don Pedro of Arragon. After perusing his letter, Leonato inquires how
many lives have been lost, and is delighted to hear few have perished. He then remarks that the most lauded person in his dispatches is Claudio,
who the messenger enthusiastically declares 'better bettered expectation.'

The ladies, who have listened eagerly, now join in the conversation, Beatrice pertly inquiring whether Lord Mountanto is returning with the
troops. As the messenger fails to recognise the person she mentions by this nickname, Hero explains her cousin means Signior Benedick, of
Padua, who, Beatrice adds, once challenged a fool, and whose victims she has volunteered to eat, because she does not believe they exist.

Although amused by his niece's pertness, the governor thinks she is making too much ado about nothing, for he good-naturedly exclaims she is
taxing too sorely a good soldier. Then, as Beatrice continues to gird at her absent foe, Leonato explains how his niece and Signior Benedick never
meet without indulging in a 'merry war' of wit. Tossing her head, Beatrice rejoins this youth has never yet gotten the better of her, and claims that
in their last encounter she routed four of his five wits. Because the messenger adds Benedick is returning with his friend Claudio, she pities the
latter, declaring he will pay dear for such intimacy.

At this juncture Don Pedro of Arragon, his brother Don John, Claudio, and Benedick appear, and are courteously welcomed by Leonato, who, in
reply to their apologies for troubling him with their entertainment, assures Don Pedro trouble never came into his house in the guise of his Grace.
Turning to the ladies, Don Pedro next inquires whether one is not Leonato's daughter, and enters into conversation with Hero, just as a remark
from Benedick calls forth Beatrice's scornful, 'I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick; nobody marks you.' This gibe is promptly
returned by 'What, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet living?' whereto
Beatrice avers Disdain will never die, so long as it has such food to feed upon
as Signior Benedick. These two continue thus to bandy bitter-sweet remarks,
until Benedick, piqued by his companion's jeers, exclaims he wishes his horse
had the speed of her tongue, and were so 'good a continuer.' Don Pedro, who
has paid no attention to this skirmish, now announces he has accepted
Leonato's invitation to tarry in Messina a month, a decision pleasing to his
host, who welcomes even the obnoxious Don John, recently reconciled to the
brother against whom he rebelled.

While the princes of Arragon are escorted off the scene by Leonato and the
ladies, the two young men linger on the stage. Seizing this favourable
opportunity, Claudio asks Benedick whether he has noted Leonato's fair
daughter, whom he admired before the war began, and with whom he now
feels deeply enamoured, although fickle by nature. Benedick, the confirmed
bachelor, ridicules his friend for yielding to feminine charms, and does his
sarcastic best to find fault with Hero, pronouncing her attractions greatly
inferior to those of Beatrice. Then, seeing his strictures remain without effect,
he wonders whether he will 'never see a bachelor of three-score again' just as
Don Pedro returns on the scene.

When he pleasantly inquires what can detain them, Benedick playfully

volunteers to reveal Claudio's secret, provided the prince command him to do
so, and, enjoined to speak, reveals how dearly Claudio loves Hero. Unable to
deny this, Claudio is overjoyed when Don Pedro pronounces the lady worthy
of him, although Benedick continues to rail at him for contemplating
matrimony. Good-naturedly remarking that even Benedick may yet change
his mind, Don Pedro is told that, should such be the case, they may take him
for a laughing stock, and adorn him with the sign, 'here you may see
Benedick the married man!'

A little more conversation ensues, ere Don Pedro sends Benedick to inform Leonato they will honour the supper to which he has invited them.
Then turning to Claudio, his favourite, Don Pedro promises to aid him secure Hero's hand. In fact, his Grace proposes to sound the young lady in
disguise that evening, and in case he finds her favourably inclined toward Claudio, to arrange with her father for an immediate marriage. The
curtain next rises on a room in the governor's house, where Leonato is asking his brother Antonio whether music has been ordered for the
evening's entertainment. After answering in the affirmative, Antonio reports that one of his servants overheard Don Pedro and Claudio discussing
Hero, with whom the prince has evidently fallen in love. Delighted with this news, Leonato proposes to warn his daughter, so she may be ready to
answer, should the prince sue for her hand.

Scarcely have he and his brother passed off the stage when Don John draws near with one of his followers, who inquires why he seems sad.
Replying in a misanthropic vein, Don John admits that he longs to show himself 'a plain-dealing villain,' and how he has determined to seize
every opportunity to make trouble for Claudio, whom he hates. These two men are joined by another follower of Don John, who announces he
has been royally entertained at supper, where he has heard that Hero is about to marry Claudio. Such a piece of good fortune as an heiress-wife
for the man he detests, irritates Don John, who inquires how his friend discovered the secret, and proposes to devise a plot whereby this love-
affair will be crossed. His two friends, equally ready for villainy, gladly promise to aid him as much as they can.

Act II
The second act opens in Leonato's house, while he is questioning his brother and the ladies of his household in regard to Don John's absence from
the supper. Beatrice, who declares Don John always looks so sour that she suffers from heartburn whenever he is near her, seems glad he was
away. She suggests that were he and Benedick blended together, they might make one fair-looking man, an opinion she expresses with so sharp a
tongue, that her uncle vows she will never secure a husband until she learns to control it. This reproof calls forth further witticisms on Beatrice's
part, for she avers she does not want any husband, but would far rather remain an old maid. When her uncle ventures to remind her that old maids
'have to lead apes into hell,' she pertly rejoins the devil will take the apes from her at the door, and send her back to heaven, to sit among the
bachelors, and live 'as merry as the day is long.'

Turning to his niece Hero, Antonio inquires whether she, too, proposes to follow her cousin's example. Whereupon Beatrice mocks Hero for
tamely accepting any husband her father cares to choose. When Leonato exclaims he doesn't despair of seeing his niece married some day, too,
Beatrice continues to gibe at the men, vowing her cousin's wedding will be a time of great annoyance for her, until the noise of approaching
revellers forces the party to mask and receive the arriving guests.

Among those who crowd in, wearing masks and dominoes, we discern Don Pedro, who, singling out Hero, engages her in conversation, and
gradually draws her away from the rest, so as to be able to discuss serious matters. Meantime, one of his companions draws aside Margaret and
Ursula, Hero's companions, and he and Antonio entertain them, while Beatrice, who has been joined by Benedick, immediately begins with him a
wordy battle, wherein each shatters the other's lance as soon as possible. Still, they leave the room together, to join the dance, just as Don John
appears with one of his followers and Claudio.

Pretending to mistake the masked Claudio for Benedick, Don John, who is bent upon mischief, comments to him upon the fact of his brother's
marked attentions to Hero; then, perceiving he has roused a lover's jealousy, he falsely states his brother intends to marry the governor's fair
daughter. A moment later, Don John and his follower having gone, Claudio angrily mutters this is terrible news, for he now believes the prince is,
indeed, wooing on his own account. He, therefore, bitterly concludes 'friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of
love,' and that every man should do his own wooing, especially as Benedick joins him, and teasingly advises him to wear the willow, since the
prince has secured his lady-love. Then, seeing Claudio depart greatly depressed, Benedick comments upon his disappointment, and wonders why
Lady Beatrice called him 'the prince's fool,' an epithet which sorely rankles.

Such is the wound his vanity has received, that he determines to be revenged, and is just about to seek Beatrice's society once more, when Don
Pedro appears asking where Claudio may be. When Benedick describes his friend's melancholy, Don Pedro wonders what could have caused it,
and when told it is because he has stolen his friend's nest, rejoins merrily he did so merely to teach the birds to sing for their rightful owner. Then,
detecting a note of pique in his companion's tone, Don Pedro slyly inquires whether Benedick has again been quarelling with Beatrice. This opens
the floodgates, Benedick vowing he would not marry so sharp-tongued a lady, were she 'endowed with all that Adam had left him before he
transgressed.' He is still holding forth on this subject when Beatrice enters with a few of her guests, so seeing her draw near, Benedick implores
Don Pedro to dismiss him, and vanishes after exclaiming, 'I cannot endure my Lady Tongue!'

Addressing Beatrice, the prince teasingly informs her she has lost the heart of Signior Benedick, to which the young lady retorts it had only been
lent to her for a while; finding an equally ready repartee to every remark he ventures. Turning to Claudio, Don Pedro then rallies him on his
sadness, and, although the young man answers him shortly, kindly informs him he has so successfully wooed Hero in his behalf, that her father
has given consent to the marriage, and all now remaining to do is to settle the wedding day. These tidings are gravely confirmed by Leonato, who
invites Claudio to take his daughter's hand, a move the young lover accomplishes in silence. Noting this, Beatrice ventures to taunt him,
whereupon he rejoins that 'silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but a little happy, if I could say how much.' Then, turning to his
betrothed, Claudio tells her he loves her dearly, only to be urged by Beatrice to kiss her instead.

Fascinated by Beatrice's merry ways, Don Pedro now playfully proposes to marry her, but she, catching his spirit, promptly returns his Grace
would be too costly a husband for every-day wear, and that she would not think of accepting him unless she could have another for working days.
It is only when her uncle begs her to attend to some household matters that Beatrice departs, while Don Pedro remarks that she is a 'pleasant-
spirited lady.'

This praise pleases Leonato, who vows his niece is never sad or cross, although she gibes so constantly at marriage. When Don Pedro suggests
she would make an ideal wife for Benedick, Leonato exclaims they would talk themselves mad in the course of a week. Paying no heed to this
comment, Don Pedro inquires of Claudio when his marriage is to take place, and, learning it will be only on the following Monday, a date too
distant to suit the lover, although the father considers that space of time far too brief to accomplish all that must be done, proposes to beguile the
time of waiting by bringing together Beatrice and Benedick, who, he feels certain, can easily be induced to fall in love. Enlisting Leonato's and
Claudio's ready aid to carry out this scheme, Don Pedro bids them follow him, so he can instruct them what moves to make to compel these
wayward young folks to love each other, gleefully boasting that a double marriage will result, and that Cupid is not the only matchmaker.

This group has barely left the room when Don John and his friend return to resume their discussion of Claudio's marriage. Perceiving Don John's
desire to cross this plan in some way, his interlocutor suggests it can be done, although not honestly. When Don John inquires what he means, he
explains how, having won Margaret's favour, he can easily make her appear at her mistress's window at night. He suggests that, if he call her
Hero, it will seem as if Claudio's bride were secretly entertaining a lover. This vile plot meets with such enthusiastic approval from Don John,
that he and the courtier decide to draw Don Pedro and Claudio aside, and tell them Hero is faithless, offering to prove the truth of their words if
they will lie in ambush beneath her window. There, Don John's friend will personate the lover, thus earning the reward of a thousand ducats.

The next scene occurs in Leonato's orchard, where Benedick summons a boy and sends him for a book, as he wishes to enjoy a little solitude. Left
alone, Benedick marvels that Claudio should have fallen so deeply in love, as hitherto this youth has been devoted to his profession as a soldier. It
is evident love can effect strange transformations, for Benedick mockingly concludes it may some day transform him into an oyster. Still, he
deems that day far distant, for he avers that, while one woman may be fair, another wise, another virtuous, 'till all graces be in one woman, one
woman shall not come in my grace!' He further declares that his ideal much be rich, wise, virtuous, fair, mild, noble, capable of good discourse,
an excellent musician, 'her hair being of what colour it please God.' This whole soliloquy betrays great self-appreciation, and when it is
concluded, Benedick complacently withdraws to a leafy arbour, so as not to be disturbed in his meditations by the people drawing near.

From this arbour Benedick notices Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato strolling in the garden, apparently listening to music, but in reality bent on
carrying out the deception they have planned. After asking Claudio, in a whisper, whether their victim is at hand, Don Pedro calls for a pretty
song with a senseless refrain, and compliments the singer upon his way of rendering it. Meantime, from his hiding-place, Benedick sarcastically
criticises this music, averring that had a dog howled thus, he would have been hanged. After dismissing the musician, who is hired to serenade
Hero that night, Don Pedro strolls nearer to the arbour, inquiring of Leonato whether he meant what he said when he stated his niece Beatrice
loved Benedick madly. In spite of the fact that Claudio exclaims this cannot be true, Leonato asserts his niece dotes upon that cavalier, although
she pretends to abhor him.

The vanity of the hidden Benedick is so tickled at the thought of having achieved the conquest of so difficult a lady, that he greedily listens, only
to hear the gentlemen repeat that Beatrice counterfeits dislike. So serious are they while making these statements that Benedick feels convinced
they are telling the truth, even when Leonato declares his niece constantly writes love letters she never sends. After discussing at length these
letters, Beatrice's tears, and her amorous exclamations, all of which information Leonato claims to have obtained from Hero, Don Pedro gravely
suggests Benedick should be informed of this passion; but Claudio declares such a move would be passing cruel, as his friend does not believe in
love, and would surely make fun of the lady. All three, therefore, decide to allow Beatrice to pine, hoping she may in time forget her mad passion
for Benedick, whom they pronounce utterly unworthy of being beloved by so charming a lady. Having thus executed their plan, the three
conspirators move away, Claudio whispering to his companions that if Benedick doesn't dote upon Beatrice hereafter, he will never trust his
expectation.

The gentlemen having gone, Benedick issues from his hiding-place, marvelling at all he has heard, and deciding it will never do to allow so
lovely a lady to pine away. Instead, he proposes to sacrifice his desire to remain single, and has just decided to marry soon, when Beatrice comes
into the garden, tartly stating she has been sent, much against her will, to summon him to dinner. Instead of answering this remark in kind,
Benedick, convinced that Beatrice is doing violence to her feelings, proves so deferential that she fails to recognise him. Because she flounces
off, he conceitedly comments that her manner is confirmation strong of all he has overheard, and declares that, if he does not take pity upon her,
he is a villain, and that if he does not love her he is a Jew!

Act III

The third act opens in the governor's garden, where Hero bids Margaret run into the parlour and whisper to Beatrice, who is conversing there with
the prince and Claudio, that her cousin and Ursula are in the orchard talking about her, and that, if she cares to overhear them, she can do so by
hiding in a neighbouring bower. Promising to induce Beatrice to come soon, the maid vanishes, while Hero instructs her companions to talk
loudly about Benedick, praising him highly, and depicting him as desperately in love with Beatrice; for it is by such means Hero hopes to induce
her cousin to fall in love with this swain. A moment later, having seen Beatrice steal to her hiding-place, Hero strolls in that direction, talking
carelessly of her cousin's light ways, and of Signior Benedick's love for her. She declares this suitor deserves everything that is good, but,
knowing Beatrice's scorn for him, she avers she has advised him never to make his love known. In support of her opinion, she describes how
Beatrice ridicules every man who approaches her, and vows the only way to cure Benedick of his hopeless passion will be to 'devise some honest
slanders' to stain her cousin with. Such a proceeding seems objectionable to Ursula, who inquires why Beatrice does not look favourably upon
Benedick, whom she considers a fine young man. Thereupon Hero assures her the young man is, indeed, excellent, and that she regrets he has so
sorely misplaced his affection. Then, feeling her work done, Hero suggests they return to the house to decide upon the wedding attire for the
morrow.

After they have gone, Beatrice emerges from her hiding-place, amazed at what she has heard, and radically cured of her most serious fault, by the
lifelike picture her cousin has held up before her eyes. She now decides to cease gibing, to bid maiden pride and contempt farewell, and to reward
Benedick for his great love.

The next scene is played in a room in Leonato's house, where Don Pedro, talking to the governor and to others, states he is lingering in Messina
to witness the marriage, after which he intends to return home. When Claudio volunteers to accompany him, he playfully rejoins that as it would
be cruel to separate him from his bride, he has decided to take Benedick in his stead, knowing he is good company, and leaves no lady-love
behind him. Hearing this, Benedick shamefacedly rejoins he is no longer what he has been, and when they twit him with having a toothache,
mutters it is easy for every man to 'master a grief but he that has it.'

Having observed his friend closely, Claudio now exclaims Benedick must be in love, for he has marked sundry tell-tale signs, such as hat-
brushing, frequent barbering, fine dressing, and going to such unheard of sixteenth-century lengths as washing his face. After enduring their gibes
for a while, Benedick begs Leonato for a secret hearing, so, while they two draw aside, Don Pedro and Claudio gleefully whisper that Hero and
Margaret must have carried out their part of the plot, and that these 'two bears will not bite one another when they meet.'

At this moment Don John joins them, and, after greeting his brother, states he has a matter to impart which concerns Claudio closely. Invited to
speak, he asks Claudio whether he is really to be married on the morrow, looking so compassionately at him, that the youth anxiously inquires
whether he has heard of any impediment to his nuptials. With pretended reluctance, Don John now declares Hero is disloyal, offering to prove the
truth of his statement, provided Claudio station himself beneath her window that night. He adds that should Hero's lover choose to marry her after
that, he may do so, but that he feels confident he will never wish to trust her again. His jealousy roused by these remarks, Claudio swears, should
he behold any reason why he should not wed Hero, he will shame her in the face of the congregation on the morrow, a decision upheld by Don
Pedro, who feels his honour, too, is at stake, and they are still discussing what steps to take when the curtain falls.
When it rises again, it is night in the street before Leonato's house, where Dogberry and his henchman Verges are placing the watch. Giving them
long-winded instructions, Dogberry misuses his words in a comical fashion, and cautions his men not to meddle with thieves or any wrongdoers,
lest they run into danger. The watchmen wisely conclude to sleep rather than watch, closing their eyes tight when thieves pass by, lest they should
be tempted to interfere with their occupations. The whole scene is ludicrous in the extreme, and when Dogberry goes away, he bids the men keep
particular watch of the governor's door, as a wedding is pending and disturbances can be expected.

No sooner have Dogberry and Verges gone, than two of Don John's men steal forward, closely noted by the watchmen, who have taken up their
post on the church bench, to rest until it is time to go to bed. From this place of vantage they overhear one man boasting he has earned a thousand
ducats in compassing an act of villainy, and mention how, posted beneath Hero's window, he called the chambermaid by her name, until he
deluded the hidden Claudio into believing his lady-love faithless. Although only half understanding what they see and hear, the watchmen
excitedly comment to each other about the plot they have discovered, and decide to arrest the malefactors, who protest vehemently.

The scene is next transferred to Hero's apartments, on her wedding morning, just as she is calling for Beatrice and discussing fashions. In the
midst of the voluble talk in regard to styles and the approaching ceremony, Beatrice seems so out of tune, that she is twitted for it by one of the
attendants. This occasions a witty and wordy skirmish, which is interrupted by Margaret's announcement that all the gentlemen in town have
come to escort the bride to church.

Meantime, in another room in the same house, Leonato is interviewing Dogberry and Verges, bidding them state their errand briefly, as he is very
busy. As it is an impossibility for Dogberry to be brief, he informs the governor with endless circumlocution that two knaves were caught last
night, beneath his windows, who should be examined immediately. Unwilling to be detained by trifling matters, Leonato deputes Dogberry to
examine these prisoners himself, whereupon, proud of this charge, the constable hurries his prisoners off, bidding Verges summon a secretary
with pen and inkhorn to take down all they say. Just as Dogberry vanishes with men and prisoners, the governor is summoned to join his guests
for the wedding.

Act IV

The fourth act opens in the church, as Leonato is enjoining upon the friar to celebrate the marriage as briefly as possible. In compliance with
these orders, the friar begins his momentous questions, and is startled to hear Claudio deny he has come here to marry Hero. Deeming this a mere
quibble in regard to terms, he nevertheless propounds the same question to the lady, who returns the conventional answer. When the friar next
asks whether any one knows any 'inward impediment why they should not be joined in marriage,' Claudio meaningly asks his bride whether she
does not. Hearing her truthfully rejoin there is no obstacle as far as she knows, Claudio demands of Leonato whether he is giving away a maiden
daughter. This question also being answered in the affirmative, Claudio turns toward the wedding guests, indignantly denouncing Hero as a
whited sepulchre and vowing he has good reasons for knowing she is not pure. When the father tremblingly demands whether this means he
anticipated his wedding, Claudio rejoins he has always treated Hero in brotherly fashion with 'bashful sincerity and comely love.' His villainous
accusations are so incomprehensible to the innocent Hero, that fancying he has been taken suddenly ill, she speaks gently to him. Hearing this,
Don Pedro interferes, angrily vowing he feels insulted because such a person was offered to his friend. Then, in the course of the lively dialogue
which ensues, Don Pedro, Claudio, and Don John reveal how, standing beneath Hero's window last night, they saw a lover climb into her room.
Their accusations prove so circumstantial, that Leonato tragically inquires whether there is no dagger-point for his heart, while poor Hero
swoons, and is caught as she falls by her cousin Beatrice.

Seeing Hero apparently lifeless, Don John nervously suggests they go away, and succeeds in hurrying his brother and Claudio out of the church.
Meantime, Benedick and Beatrice, bending over the fainting Hero, call for help, which Leonato refuses to give, averring ' death is the fairest
cover for her shame that may be wish'd for,' and saying he hopes Hero will never open her eyes again! His opinion is not shared by Benedick and
Beatrice, for when he wails nothing can ever 'wash her clean again' his niece exclaims her cousin is belied. In hopes of clearing Hero's reputation,
Benedick now asks Beatrice whether she slept with her cousin last night as usual, and is appalled to hear how, for the first time, she omitted doing
so. Although the heartbroken father considers this an additional proof of his daughter's guilt, the friar insists no culprit ever bore so innocent a
face, claiming that long experience would enable him to detect the slightest trace of wrong-doing. He is, therefore, ready to swear the sweet lady
lies 'guiltless here under some blighting error,' although the father does not believe him. While they are talking, Hero's eyes open, so the friar
eagerly inquires who has misled her. Truthfully, yet sadly, Hero rejoins she does not know what they mean, never having even conversed with a
man at an improper time or in an improper way. This statement convinces the friar and Benedick that some treachery is afoot, which the latter
unhesitatingly ascribes to Don John, 'whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.' Hearing this, Leonato vows that, should his daughter prove guilty,
he will tear her to pieces with his own hands, but if she is wronged, 'the proudest of them shall well hear of it.'

To check his rising wrath, the friar suggests that, since the wedding guests departed under the impression that Hero had died at the altar, it will be
well to keep her recovery secret, and adds that when the rumour of her death spreads abroad, and the pretence of an interment is made, people
will feel so sorry for her that their pity will 'change slander to remorse.' He fancies Claudio, in particular, will feel reproached, and adds that,
should his accusation prove true, Hero's shame can be hidden in a religious house, the place which would best befit 'her wounded reputation.'

This advice seems so wise that Benedick urges Leonato to follow it, so he arranges to carry out the friar's plan. All the rest now leaving the scene
of this tragedy, Benedick tenderly addresses Beatrice, inquiring whether she has wept all the time, and showing such sympathy that she feels
deeply touched. When he offers to be her friend, confessing he loves her, Beatrice rejoins that, although she does not love him, she thinks well of
him. As usual, she relapses into efforts at wit, but instead of answering sharp speeches in kind, Benedick tries by every means in his power to
disarm her. Hearing him vehemently offer to do anything she bids him, Beatrice calls out in righteous indignation she wishes he would kill
Claudio, or at least prove him mistaken in accusing Hero. She vehemently adds that were she only a man, she would avenge this insult,
whereupon Benedick gallantly pledges himself to challenge his friend for slaying Hero, since it is agreed she is to be considered dead.

The curtain next rises on the prison, where Dogberry and his henchman are fussily cross-examining their prisoners. This whole scene is comical
in the extreme, for Dogberry, full of his importance, bids the secretary write down one irrelevant statement after another. The only official
showing any sense is the sexton, who has had experience in such matters. Still, amidst the confusion it gradually transpires that the courtiers were
paid by Don John to play a vile part that Hero might be publicly disgraced. This testimony is written down, although Dogberry regrets the
secretary has departed before one of his prisoners termed him an ass, as he deems it important this statement be put down on the minutes, too!
The prisoners, having fully confessed their wrong-doing, are led away bound, so Leonato can deal with them as he sees fit.

Act V

The fifth act opens in front of Leonato's house, just as Antonio assures his brother he will kill himself if he continues mourning in this
extravagant way. There is, however, no consolation for Leonato's deep sufferings, so he states such counsel is as profitless as pouring water in a
sieve! When he eloquently expresses his sorrow, and his brother accuses him of acting like a child, Leonato bitterly retorts, 'there was never yet
philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently,' and vows his brother would show more heat if the wrong concerned him. His main object
in life henceforth is to prove Hero has been belied by Claudio and the prince.

It is at this moment that Don Pedro and Claudio try to pass by and are detained by Leonato, who reviles them for wronging him and his child.
When he hotly terms them villains, and threatens to prove it at the point of his sword, Don Pedro and Claudio vainly try to soothe him. Such is
the excitement of both Leonato and Antonio, that they challenge Claudio to fight, while Don Pedro temperately states they are sorry to hear the
lady has died, although she was charged with nothing 'but what was true and very full of proof.' This reiterated insult sends Leonato and his
brother off the stage in a rage.

A moment later Benedick enters, and when Claudio inquires what news there is, answers in so cold and sarcastic a tone, that his companions
fancy this is some new joke. Benedick, however, soon manages to draw Claudio aside, and challenges him in a whisper; in the same tone Claudio
accepts this duel, although the prince, thinking they have made an appointment for an entertainment, chaffs them about it in a witty way. Then,
still in pursuit of his former plan, Don Pedro reports how he heard Beatrice praise Benedick's wit, and urges Claudio to repeat the nice things she
is supposed to have said about it.

In spite of all this jocularity, Benedick returns haughty answers, and finally states he does not care to consort with them any longer, since he has
heard that Don John has fled, not daring to remain in the city, now it is rumoured Hero's death is due to his machinations. Seeing Benedick go off
in anger after this statement, Don Pedro expresses amazement, until he and Claudio realise the young man has manfully espoused Beatrice's
cause.

They are still discussing the question when Dogberry enters with his prisoners, in whom Don Pedro recognises with surprise two of his brother's
men. When he questions the watch, Dogberry asserts they have been guilty of sundry misdeeds, becoming so verbose that Don Pedro finally turns
to the prisoners themselves for information. They humbly confess their villainy, having been stricken with remorse on hearing the tragic result of
their night's work. Their report positively staggers Don Pedro and Claudio, who can scarcely credit their ears, and only with difficulty realise how
Don John started the slander which has such results.

In his remorse, Claudio is loudly mourning for Hero, when Leonato bursts into the room, he, too, having, meantime, heard the news. Clamouring
for the villain so he may take his revenge, Leonato is told the prisoner is not to blame for his child's death. He soon realises it is to be ascribed
mainly to Don John, although the prince, and Claudio, have had their share in the evil work. Hearing his strictures, Claudio implores Leonato to
impose upon him any penance he chooses, vowing his sin consisted solely in misapprehension. As the same excuse is pleaded by Don Pedro,
Leonato declares he will hold himself satisfied, provided they both repair to Hero's tomb, and do penance there for the insult offered her. Not only
do Claudio and the prince engage to fulfil this duty, but the lover further pledges himself to meet the irate Leonato on the morrow to learn what
other atonement he can make. Then Leonato decides that, since Claudio can no longer be his son-in-law, he shall marry his niece, who is 'almost
the copy of my child that's dead,' a reparation the penitent Claudio is ready to make.

Meanwhile, Leonato intends to confront Margaret and the prisoners, so as to sift the whole story down to the bottom, although the courtier
voluntarily testifies she has always been virtuous, and was not aware of their vile plot. After receiving Leonato's thanks for ferreting out this
affair, Dogberry retires with his men, uttering a most involved speech. Then, taking leave of Don Pedro and Claudio, who are to spend the night
at Hero's tomb, Leonato and his brother go off with their prisoners to cross-question Margaret.

The next scene is played in the governor's garden, where Benedick is imploring Margaret to secure for him an interview with Beatrice. To tease
this ardent suitor, Margaret bids him write a sonnet in praise of her beauty, and when he gallantly says she deserves it, enters into witty
conversation with him, ere going away to summon her mistress. While waiting for Beatrice, Benedick sings to himself, musing upon the great
lovers of history, and conning the rhymes he wishes to use in composing a poem in honour of his lady-love. Although Beatrice on joining him
answers his remarks in her wonted strain, Benedick makes a greater effort than ever before to win a hearing. His evident solicitude for her cousin
touches Beatrice's heart, and she has barely reported Hero very ill, when Ursula bursts in, full of excitement, exclaiming Leonato has just
discovered how Hero had been falsely accused, and the prince and Claudio tricked! These tidings prove so joyful to Beatrice that she graciously
invites Benedick to go with her and hear all about it, an invitation he gladly accepts.

The curtain next rises on the church where Hero was disgraced, whither Don Pedro and Claudio have come with attendants and tapers to place
upon her monument, a statement fully retracting the slanders they uttered on this spot. After singing a touching requiem, Claudio promises to do
yearly penance in this style in memory of the lovely lady 'done to death' by his cruelty.

It is only when Don Pedro warns him dawn is near at hand that Claudio departs, saying mournfully he and his friends must change garments, and
hurry to Leonato's, where he is to atone for his wrongdoing by marrying the governor's niece.
At the hour for the wedding, many people assemble in Leonato's house, where the friar triumphantly states he pronounced Hero innocent from the
very first. All rejoice that the mystery has been solved, and Benedick is relieved not to have to fight his friend. Turning to his daughter, who
stands among the guests in wedding array, Leonato bids her and her cousin withdraw, appearing masked only at his summons. Then, he warns the
remaining guests that the prince and Claudio will soon appear, and bids them play their parts properly, his brother personating the bride's father
and giving her away to Claudio, although the masked lady will be Hero, and not Beatrice, as the bridegroom supposes. Even the friar consents to
aid in this mystification, and Benedick suddenly proposes to give the ceremony double importance, by being united to Beatrice, with whom he
has finally reached an understanding.

It is at this juncture that Don Pedro and Claudio enter, and, after greeting the assembled guests, gravely state they are ready to proceed with the
marriage. While the governor's brother goes out to get the bride, the prince, Claudio, and Benedick indulge in sprightly conversation, which
continues until the ladies appear. Hesitating which to approach, Claudio begs a glimpse of the bride's face, but Leonato tells him that is not
allowed, and points out the lady he is to wed. After plighting troth by taking hands in the friar's presence, Hero removes her mask, saying, 'when I
lived, I was your other wife, and when you loved, you were my other husband.' This sudden appearance of a lady he deems dead, causes Claudio
to start back in terror, but when the bride assures him one Hero was done to death, but that another is alive to marry him, he is so relieved to think
she is still on earth that he welcomes her with rapture. All Hero's statements are, besides, fully confirmed by the friar, who promises to explain
everything after the wedding ceremony.

Meantime, Benedick has approached Beatrice, who, removing her mask, asks what he wishes. When he inquires whether she loves him, she
jauntily rejoins 'no more than reason,' although he claims her uncle, the prince, and Claudio swear such is the case. Turning the tables upon him,
Beatrice then asks whether he loves her, and when he replies by repeating her words, and by revealing that Margaret, Ursula, and Hero aver she is
sick of love for him, she seems surprised. Their witty difference finally attracts the attention of the rest, but when Leonato tries to make them
publicly admit they like each other, they obstinately refuse to do so! Then Claudio slyly produces a paper on which Benedick was composing a
sonnet to his lady, while Hero exhibits another on which Beatrice's sentiments for Benedick are betrayed. In face of this proof, the rebellious
lovers no longer deny their passion, and Benedick stops all further protest on Beatrice's part by kissing her.

When rallied by Don Pedro for breaking his oath, and becoming the very thing he vowed he would never be, 'Benedick the married man,' the
youth glories in his new bonds, jocosely bidding the prince get a wife, too, and inviting all present follow him and his bride to the dancing hall.

The wedding party has just vanished out of sight when a messenger announces that the traitor Don John has been caught, and is being brought
back to Messina, where Benedick promises to help Don Pedro devise 'brave punishments for him.'

The Merry Wives of Windsor

Justice Shallow, Master Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans enter, discussing Shallow's anger at Sir John Falstaff. Evans changes the topic to the young

Anne Page, whom he would like to see Slender marry. They arrive at Master Page's door, where Shallow confronts Falstaff and his entourage.

The men enter to dine, but Slender drifts around outside, trying unsuccessfully to converse with Anne Page until he goes inside.

Falstaff and his entourage settle in at the Garter Inn, where Falstaff reveals his plan to seduce Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, both of whom

have control over their husband's money, which he desires. He sends Pistol and Nim to deliver letters to the women, but they refuse. Instead they

plot to stymie Falstaff's plans by telling Page and Ford of his intentions.

Mistress Quickly talks to Slender's servant Simple, sent by Evans, and agrees that she will consent to speak positively of Slender to Anne Page.

Her master, Doctor Caius, enters and encounters Simple. When he hears about his errand, he becomes angry and drafts a letter to Evans. Caius

too is in love with Anne Page and blames Evans for encouraging Slender; hence he challenges him to a duel. He threatens Quickly, who had

promised him she would encourage Anne to look favorably on him. Later Fenton enters; he's also in love with Anne and wants to know if

Quickly has related his affections to her.

Mistress Page enters with a letter from Falstaff. She's astonished that he has the gall to try to seduce her and wonders how she will seek revenge.

Mistress Ford appears with her own letter, which they discover is exactly the same. They decide to lead Falstaff on until he is ruined and

humiliated. Mistress Ford agrees to anything that won't harm her honor. Meanwhile, Pistol and Nim enter, conversing with Ford and Page; they

reveal Falstaff's plans. The husbands are astonished. Page doesn't think his wife will fall for Falstaff, but Ford is horribly jealous and convinced

his wife will dishonor him.

Shallow and the Host of the Garter Inn enter with news of a fight between Caius and Evans. Page goes with them to watch, while Ford makes a

deal with the Host to be introduced to Falstaff in disguise, in order to find out how far Falstaff has gotten in his plan.

At the Garter Inn, Quickly enters with a message from Mistresses Ford and Page for Falstaff. She reports that Ford will be out the next morning,

and Mistress Ford will be expecting a visit from him. Mistress Page has not yet gotten her husband to leave the house, so she'll make a date at a

later time. Then Ford enters in disguise, announced under the name Brooke. He tells Falstaff that he's in love with Mistress Ford, but that she has

always rebuffed his advances, claiming that she's too honorable to cheat on her husband. He asks Falstaff to seduce Mistress Ford, thus

destroying her honor, so she won't be able to turn him down in the future. Falstaff reports his date the next morning with Mistress Ford. Alone,

Ford curses his wife for preparing to cheat on him and thinks Page is foolish to trust his wife.

Caius awaits Evans for their duel, but Evans is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Evans has been wandering around looking for Caius. They meet

and prepare to fight. The other men take their swords away, and Caius and Evans speak quietly to each other of their suspicion that the Host has

plotted to make them look like fools because he scorns Evans for his Welsh accent and Caius for his French one. They agree to work together to

get revenge against the Host.

On the way back from the fight, the men discuss Anne's marriage options. Page says he favors Slender, but his wife prefers Caius. What about

Fenton?, asks one, but Page dismisses him entirely. Ford invites the men back to his house to catch Falstaff.

Falstaff has arrived at Mistress Ford's house; he hides when Mistress Page is announced. She comes in and speaks loudly of the imminent arrival

of Ford, who angrily suspects his wife of cheating. Falstaff comes out and asks them to help him flee. They hide him in a laundry basket. Ford

and his buddies enter as Mistress Ford's men carry the laundry out. Ford is unable to find Falstaff, and the Mistresses are doubly delighted to have

fooled both Falstaff and Ford. They decide to humiliate Falstaff further in the service of making Ford get over his jealousy.

Fenton and Anne Page speak. He says her father objects to him because he suspects him of just wanting Anne's money, since he is high-born but

poor. Fenton admits that that was his intention at first, but, since getting to know her, he has come to feel differently. Shallow, Slender, and

Quickly enter; Quickly draws Fenton away, while Shallow tries to get Slender to talk to Anne. Slender only makes a fool of himself by speaking
nonsense. Page and his wife enter, and they invite the favored Slender inside. Fenton asks Quickly to continue to campaign on his behalf with

Anne. Alone, Quickly notes that she likes him better than the other two men who have asked her to sway Anne's opinion.

Falstaff arrives at the Garter Inn, soaked after having been thrown in the river with the laundry. Quickly enters with a second invitation from

Mistress Ford. Ford enters in disguise as Brooke and asks how Falstaff's date with Mistress Ford went. He tells how it ended, but says he is

visiting again that night!

Falstaff returns to Mistress Ford's house, and again Mistress Page enters soon after. Falstaff hides, and Mistress Page warns Mistress Ford of her

husband's approach. How will they hide Falstaff this time? He emerges and refuses to go in the laundry again. Mistress Ford suggests that he

wear the clothes of her servant's fat aunt to escape in disguise. He does, and when Ford arrives, he beats Falstaff and chases him away because he

hates the fat aunt. Mistress Ford and Mistress Page are pleased; they think they have proven their point, and so they decide to tell their husbands

of their schemes.

Ford apologizes to his wife for his jealousy, and he promises never to suspect her again. They decide that it would be fun to work together to

humiliate Falstaff publicly. They plan to have Mistress Ford invite Falstaff to meet her in an allegedly haunted wood, and they'll dress their

children up as ghosts and monsters to terrify and embarrass Falstaff. Then, having caught him in the act of trying to meet Mistress Ford secretly,

they can tell the story all around town.

Fenton speaks to the Host of a letter he has received from Anne. She says that her parents want to use the chaos of disguised children in the

haunted wood as an opportunity for her suitors to elope with her. Her mother wants her to run off with Caius and her father prefers Slender. Each

instructs her to wear a specific outfit so each suitor may find her. But she intends to deceive them both. Fenton asks the Host to help him find a

vicar who will marry them that night.

Meanwhile, Caius and Evans avenge themselves on the Host by stealing three of his horses in a scheme that had him believing he had lent the

horses to three German lords on their way to the royal court.

Falstaff arrives in the haunted woods. The disguised children hide and wait. Ford and Page and their friends arrive to watch, and Mistress Ford

and Mistress Page approach Falstaff. He's delighted to see they have both come to meet him. Then they hear a noise and the women run away.

Falstaff is surrounded by disguised elves and ghouls and is terrified. Mistress Quickly, playing the fairy queen, says they should try to burn the

human they have encountered, and if he doesn't burn then he is pure. They burn Falstaff with candles and encircle him and pinch him.
Finally, the disguised children depart, and Page and Ford enter. Falstaff sees that he has been fooled and humiliated. Evans tells Falstaff that he

should give up on his lusts and tells Ford that he should trust his wife. Meanwhile, they all wonder where Anne is. Slender arrives upset; in the

confusion, he eloped with a young boy in Anne's outfit. Then Caius enters, in a rage that he has married a boy wearing Anne's assigned color

outfit. Then Anne herself enters with Fenton. Fenton scolds the Pages for having thought to send Anne into a marriage without love. He and Anne

have long been in love, he says, and now it has been finalized.

Ford says that love has won out, and Page and his wife realize their mistake in not having listened to the wishes of their daughter. Falstaff is

pleased that their plan to humiliate him backfired partially in the marriage of Anne and Fenton. They adjourn to celebrate the marriage and invite

Falstaff to join them.

TITUS ANDRONICUS

The play begins shortly after the death of the Roman emperor, with his two sons, Saturninus and Bassianus, squabbling over who
will succeed him. Their conflict seems set to boil over into violence until a tribune, Marcus Andronicus, announces that the people's choice for
the new emperor is Marcus's brother, Titus, who will shortly return to Rome from a victorious ten-year campaign against the Goths. Titus
subsequently arrives to much fanfare, bearing with him as prisoners the Queen of the Goths (Tamora), her three sons (Alarbus, Chiron, and
Demetrius), and Aaron the Moor (her secret lover). Despite Tamora's desperate pleas, Titus sacrifices her eldest son, Alarbus, to avenge the
deaths of his own sons during the war. Distraught, Tamora and her two surviving sons vow to obtain revenge on Titus and his family.
Meanwhile, Titus refuses the offer of the throne, arguing that he is not fit to rule and instead supporting the claim of Saturninus, who then is duly
elected. Saturninus tells Titus that for his first act as emperor, he will marry Titus's daughter Lavinia. Titus agrees, although Lavinia is
already betrothed to Saturninus's brother, Bassianus, who refuses to give her up. Titus's sons tell Titus that Bassianus is in the right under Roman
law, but Titus refuses to listen, accusing them all of treason. A scuffle breaks out, during which Titus kills his own son, Mutius. Saturninus then
denounces the Andronici family for their effrontery and shocks Titus by marrying Tamora. Putting into motion her plan for revenge, Tamora
advises Saturninus to pardon Bassianus and the Andronici family, which he reluctantly does.
During a royal hunt the following day, Aaron persuades Demetrius and Chiron to kill Bassianus, so they may rape Lavinia. They do so, throwing
Bassianus's body into a pit and dragging Lavinia deep into the forest before violently raping her. To keep her from revealing what has happened,
they cut out her tongue and cut off her hands. Meanwhile, Aaron writes a forged letter, which frames Titus's sons Martius and Quintus for the
murder of Bassianus. Horrified at the death of his brother, Saturninus arrests Martius and Quintus, and sentences them to death.
Some time later, Marcus discovers the mutilated Lavinia and takes her to her father, who is still shocked at the accusations levelled at his sons,
and upon seeing Lavinia, he is overcome with grief. Aaron then visits Titus and falsely tells him that Saturninus will spare Martius and Quintus if
either Titus, Marcus, or Titus's remaining son, Lucius, cuts off one of their hands and sends it to him. Titus has Aaron cut off his (Titus') left hand
and sends it to the emperor but, in return, a messenger brings Titus Martius and Quintus's severed heads, along with Titus's own severed hand.
Desperate for revenge, Titus orders Lucius to flee Rome and raise an army among their former enemy, the Goths.
Later, Lavinia writes the names of her attackers in the dirt, using a stick held with her mouth and between her mutilated arms. Meanwhile,
Tamora secretly gives birth to a mixed-racechild, fathered by Aaron. Aaron kills the nurse to keep the child's race a secret and flees with the baby
to save it from Saturninus' inevitable wrath. Thereafter, Lucius, marching on Rome with an army, captures Aaron and threatens to hang the infant.
In order to save the baby, Aaron reveals the entire revenge plot to Lucius.
Illustration of the death of Chiron and Demetrius from Act 5, Scene 2; from The Works of Mr. William Shakespeare (1709), edited by Nicholas

Rowe

Back in Rome, Titus's behaviour suggests he might be deranged. Convinced of his madness, Tamora, Chiron, and Demetrius approach him,
dressed as the spirits of Revenge, Murder, and Rape. Tamora (as Revenge) tells Titus that she will grant him revenge on all of his enemies if he
can convince Lucius to postpone the imminent attack on Rome. Titus agrees and sends Marcus to invite Lucius to a reconciliatory feast. Revenge
then offers to invite the Emperor and Tamora as well, and is about to leave when Titus insists that Rape and Murder (Chiron and Demetrius,
respectively) stay with him. When Tamora is gone, Titus has them restrained, cuts their throats and drains their blood into a basin held by
Lavinia. Titus morbidly tells Lavinia that he plans to "play the cook", grind the bones of Demetrius and Chiron into powder, and bake their heads.
The next day, during the feast at his house, Titus asks Saturninus if a father should kill his daughter when she has been raped. When Saturninus
answers that he should, Titus kills Lavinia and tells Saturninus of the rape. When the Emperor calls for Chiron and Demetrius, Titus reveals that
they have been baked in the pie Tamora has just been eating. Titus then kills Tamora and is immediately killed by Saturninus, who is
subsequently killed by Lucius to avenge his father's death. Lucius is then proclaimed Emperor. He orders that Saturninus be given a state burial,
that Tamora's body be thrown to the wild beasts outside the city, and that Aaron be buried chest-deep and left to die of thirst and starvation.
Aaron, however, is unrepentant to the end, regretting only that he had not done more evil in his life.

Troilus and Cressida

In the seventh year of the Trojan War, a Trojan prince named Troilus falls in love with Cressida, the daughter of a Trojan priest who has defected

to the Greek side. Troilus is assisted in his pursuit of her by Pandarus, Cressida's uncle. Meanwhile, in the Greek camp, the Greek general,

Agamemnon, wonders why his commanders seem so downcast and pessimistic. The wise and crafty Ulysses informs him that the army's troubles

spring from a lack of respect for authority, brought about by the behavior of Achilles, the greatest Greek warrior, who refuses to fight and instead

spends his time sitting in his tent with his comrade (and lover) Patroclus, mocking his superiors. Shortly thereafter, a challenge to single combat

arrives from Prince Hector, the greatest Trojan warrior, and Ulysses decides to have Ajax, a headstrong fool, fight Hector instead of Achilles, in

the hopes that this snub will wound Achilles's pride and bring him back into the war.

In Troy, the sons of King Priam debate whether it is worthwhile to continue the war—or whether they should return Helen to the Greeks and end

the struggle. Hector argues for peace, but he is won over by the impassioned Troilus, who wants to continue the struggle. In the Greek camp,

Thersites, Ajax's foul-mouthed slave, abuses everyone who crosses his path. His master, meanwhile, has been honored by the commanders over

the sulking Achilles, and is to fight Hector the next day.

That night, Pandarus brings Troilus and Cressida together, and after they pledge to be forever true to one another, he leads them to a bedchamber

to consummate their love. Meanwhile, Cressida's father, the treacherous Trojan priest Calchas, asks the Greek commanders to exchange a Trojan

prisoner for his daughter, so that he may be reunited with her. The commanders agree, and the next morning—to Troilus and Cressida's dismay—

the trade is made, and a Greek lord named Diomedes leads Cressida away from Troy. That afternoon, Ajax and Hector fight to a draw, and after

Hector and Achilles exchange insults, Hector and Troilus feast with the Greeks under a flag of truce. As the camp goes to bed, Ulysses leads

Troilus to the tent of Calchas, where the Trojan prince watches from hiding as Cressida agrees to become Diomedes's lover.

The next day, in spite of unhappy premonitions from his wife, sister, and his father, Hector takes the field, and a furious and heartbroken Troilus

accompanies him. The Trojans drive the Greeks back, but Patroclus is killed, which brings a vengeful Achilles back into the war, finally. Achilles

is unable to defeat Hector in single combat, but he later catches him unarmed and, together with a gang of Greek warriors, slaughters him.

Achilles then drags Hector's body around the walls of Troy, and the play ends with the Trojan warriors retreating to the city to mourn their fallen

hero.

Richard III: Plot Summary

Act I

The first act opens in London, where Richard, Duke of Gloucester, states in a
soliloquy, the winter of discontent is over, and the sun of York shines upon a
glorious summer. Sarcastically he comments upon the way his brother is
spending his time as King, and grimly determines since he cannot rival him as
a lady's man, to 'prove a villain.' He has, therefore, plotted to make the King
suspect Clarence, by calling his attention to a prediction 'that G. of Edward's
heirs the murderer shall be.' While mentioning thus his brother, George, Duke
of Clarence, Richard sees him enter, escorted by guards. In reply to his
astonished question, Clarence bitterly rejoins he has been arrested, because
his name begins with G., whereupon Richard sagely avers these troubles are
due to the machinations of the Queen and her relatives, whom he accuses
also of arresting Hastings, Clarence has just expressed a conviction that no
one is safe, when the guards announce they must lead him straight to the
Tower, without allowing him to communicate with his brother. Thereupon
Richard flippantly retorts they two were merely discussing the virtues of their
majesties and the charms of Mistress Shore, concerning whom jokes in bad
taste are made, ere the brothers part, Richard promising to intercede in
Clarence's behalf.
When Clarence has gone, however, Richard grimly mutters he loves him so
dearly he intends soon to send him to heaven, and hails with apparent joy the
entrance of Lord Hastings, just released from prison. After solicitously
inquiring how he stood his incarceration, Richard adds Clarence will probably
fare equally well, since the same agency also caused his arrest. By asking if
there is any news, Richard also learns the King is so ill his physicians seem
alarmed about him. Bidding Hastings hasten to Edward — whither he will
soon follow — Richard watches this interlocutor out of sight, before he
declares that while he does not want Edward to live, he must not die until
George's fate is settled. Richard therefore proposes, by means of 'lies well
steel'd with weighty arguments,' to hasten Clarence's execution, and plans,
after Edward's death, to marry Warwick's youngest daughter, although he
murdered her husband and father. Before the scene closes, he mysteriously
hints at another 'secret close intent,' when these awful preliminaries have
been duly settled.

Through a street in London, winds the funeral procession of Henry VI, with his
daughter-in-law Lady Anne as chief mourner. Bidding the bearers set down
the bier, she laments the deaths which have desolated her heart, calling down
curses upon those who caused them. Then, turning toward the bearers, she
orders them to resume their burden and inter the King, just as Gloucester
appears. In spite of Anne's curses, and her declaration she does not see why
the bearers should fear a devil with power over mortal bodies but none over
souls, he checks their advance. But, although he ingratiatingly addresses her
as 'sweet saint,' she continues to revile him as the instrument of Henry's
death, pointing out in confirmation that the wounds bleed anew in his
presence.

When Gloucester, in return, appeals to her charity, she avers she has none
for him, and answers all his wily remarks with vehement curses. But, when
after a while he hints he may not have killed her kinsmen, she interrupts him
by indignantly declaring Queen Margaret saw his sword in her lord's breast!
Changing tactics, Gloucester now claims he was provoked to murder by the
Queen's slanderous remarks, and piously adds that as the slain King was fitter
for heaven than for earth, he did a meritorious deed in sending him thither. To
compass his evil purpose, he next proceeds to woo this widow at her father-
in-law's bier, by vowing the crimes he committed could rightly be laid at her
door, since they were done for the sake of her beauty. Rejoining if such is the
case she will destroy it, Anne spits upon Richard when he protests love to her,
and continues to curse him. Still, his tongue is so smooth, that he gradually
succeeds in calming her, and when she wails she lost a husband and father at
his hands, he dramatically offers to atone for these sorrows with his life, and
baring his breast, offers her his sword that she may stab him. Unable to use it,
although he urges her to do so by confessing he killed both Henry and
Edward, Richard disarms her wrath by claiming all he did was done for love of
her. Then, after a while, he gives Anne a ring, which he sentimentally
describes as encompassing her finger as her breast encloses his poor heart!
Finally he prevails upon Anne to let him take charge of the corpse and
withdraw, granting him a later interview, wherein they will be able to continue
this discussion. This whole scene is cleverly devised to show the fascination a
snake exerts over a fluttering bird; but when Anne has gone, Richard's humble
bearing suddenly drops like a mask, for he curtly bids the bearers remove the
corpse and await his further orders.

Left alone, he questions 'was ever woman in this humour woo'd? was ever
woman in this humour won?' and states that although he intends to marry
Anne 'with curses in her mouth, and tears in her eyes,' he is equally
determined to get rid of her in short order. Then he chuckles he is evidently
not such a monster as he has hitherto believed himself, since he has
succeeded in captivating even his victim's widow, and discusses the
advisability of turning into a fop.

We return to the palace, where Queen Elizabeth, talking to Lords Rivers and
Gray about the King's illness, declares it serious, indeed, although they assure
her Edward will soon be well. They also remind her her son is there to comfort
her when her husband is gone, whereupon she sighs the Prince is but a
minor, and in the care of Gloucester, a 'man that loves not me, nor none of
you.' Just then Lords Buckingham and Derby enter, and after exchanging
greetings with all present report the King much better and anxious to reconcile
Gloucester to her and to her family. Elizabeth has barely declared it is unlikely
such a reconciliation can ever be brought about, when Gloucester enters,
proclaiming they wrong him by filling his brother's ears with lying reports, all
because he cannot flatter and speak them fair!

When Rivers hotly demands to whom he is addressing such a reproach,

Gloucester rejoins by asking what harm he has ever done him or any of his
faction, and why they trouble Edward while he is so ill? The Queen hoping to
check the incipient quarrel, soothingly informs Gloucester the King wishes to
reconcile them all; but when he betrays mistrust, she promptly answers him in
kind. To justify himself, Richard finally accuses Elizabeth of having his brother
George imprisoned, although she insists she had no part in his arrest or
Hastings'. Nevertheless, Gloucester persists their lives are in danger, and
accuses his sister-in-law of planning to marry again. Indignantly exclaiming
she has borne his upbraiding too long, the Queen avers she would 'rather be
a country servant-maid than a great Queen, with this condition, to be thus
taunted, scorn'd and baited at.'

While Elizabeth is thus showing she has had small joy in being England's
Queen, Margaret, widow of Henry VI, enters, and grimly retorts no joy is due
to the usurper of her place! Although she denounces Gloucester, too, for
having slain her husband and son, he protests he is ready to answer for his
actions to the King, and pays no heed when she terms him a devil. Instead, he
turns to Elizabeth, sadly protesting that although his brother Clarence forsook
his father-in-law during the wars to join Edward, he is now in prison. Because
Queen Margaret remarks, that whereas they were wrangling like pirates on
her entrance, they now all seem ready to turn against her, Richard claims this
is no more than she deserves, since she fiendishly mocked his father with a
paper crown, and wiped his tears with a handkerchief steeped in the blood of
his son!

Hearing all present, Elizabeth, Hastings, Rivers, Dorset and Buckingham, now
unite in reviling her, Margaret elaborately curses them all, hoping Elizabeth
may lose husband and son and outlive her glory like her wretched self. Then,
in regard to the lords who stood by while her son was slain, she prays 'that
none of you may live your natural age, but by some unlook'd accident cut off!'

Because Gloucester attempts to silence Margaret she honours him with the
direst curse of all, calling down upon his head every evil; but, before she
concludes it with his name, he promptly substitutes her own, maliciously
insisting she has cursed herself. Such a trick amuses Elizabeth, who in return
is warned she is feeding a 'bottled spider,' in whose web she will ultimately be
snared, and that when that time comes she will long for Margaret to help her
curse 'that poisonous, bunch-back'd toad,' the choice epithet she coins for
Gloucester.

Although all present have attempted it in turn, it proves impossible to silence

Queen Margaret's tide of invective. But, having warned Buckingham to
beware of Gloucester, she leaves the stage, while Hastings ejaculates his hair
rose on end at her curses! Gloucester, however, sentimentally admits
Margaret has suffered great wrongs, and expresses hypocritical repentance
for those he did her, while Elizabeth virtuously claims she never did any
consciously. Still, Gloucester reminds her she reaps all the joys accruing from
these wrongs, adding that Clarence is already being punished for his perjury,
and hoping God will pardon the rest, a truly Virtuous and a Christian-like
conclusion, 'from Rivers' point of view.
As the chamberlain reports Edward IV awaiting the Queen and nobles, all
leave save Gloucester, who gloats over the fact that he has set 'secret
mischiefs' afoot, has stirred the King up against his brother, and expects soon
to be avenged upon these foolish lords.

Meantime, he intends to clothe his 'naked villany with old odd ends stolen out
of holy writ; and seem a saint,' when most he plays the devil. Because two
murderers for whom he has sent, now join him, he secretly gives them a
warrant, bidding them hasten to the Tower, and 'be sudden in the execution'
of what they have to do, without allowing their hearts to be moved to pity.
Grimly assuring him they have come to use their hands and not their feelings,
the murderers depart to dispatch Clarence.

In a Tower cell, Clarence is describing to the lieutenant on guard the fearful

night he has spent, for he dreamt he was on shipboard, where, while talking to
Gloucester, he fell overboard, only to experience all the horrors of drowning.
Gifted with the clearness of vision said to aflFect people under such
circumstances, Clarence describes all he saw at the bottom of the sea, as well
as his frantic struggles to keep his head above water. His interlocutor seems
particularly impressed when he depicts how, after life left him, he passed 'the
melancholy flood, with that grim ferry-man which poets write of,' and was
conscience-stricken to encounter his victims, Warwick and Edward. His
description fairly makes the lieutentant's blood run cold, although Clarence
insists his crimes were all committed for the sake of the brother who requites
him so ill, and fervently prays they may not be visited upon his wife and
children. As long as such visions haunt him, he so dreads remaining alone,
that he begs his jailor linger beside him while he drops off asleep. While
watching, the jailor moralises 'Princes have but their titles for their glories,' and
'often feel a world of restless cares,' just as the two murderers steal
noiselessly in. By silently exhibiting the warrant they hold, they compel him to
leave the room, and while he hastens away to notify the King, the murderers
discuss whether to stab Clarence asleep? One of them, thinking of the
judgment day, is suddenly assailed by such remorse that he seems ready to
relinquish the undertaking; but when his companion reminds him of the reward
promised, he boldly asserts his conscience is 'in the Duke of Gloucester's
purse.'

He and his companion are just preparing to stun Clarence by a blow on the
head, previous to drowning him in a malmsey butt in the next room, when he
suddenly awakes calling for wine. Their ominous rejoinder that he will soon
have plenty, so terrifies Clarence, that he tremulously inquires who sent them.
Thereupon they roughly bid him prepare to die, stating they are the
instruments of the King's will. In despair, Clarence finally implores them to
seek Gloucester, whereupon they reveal this Prince sent them, and again
urge their victim to make his peace with God. Because Clarence continues to
plead for mercy, they abruptly bid him look behind him, and, taking advantage
of this move, stab him. Then, after casting his corpse in the malmsey butt, one
of them mutters that, like Pilate, he would fain wash his hands of this crime,
while the other, — who has done all the work, — reviles his companion,
vowing he will report how slack he has been. The repentant man, however,
passes out of the Tower refusing to share in the reward which his companion
coolly goes off to collect previous to his departure, for he realises 'this will out,
and here I must not stay.'

Act II

The second act opens in the palace, where Edward IV rejoices because he
has reconciled the inimical peers, and feels he can face his Redeemer since
he leaves his friends at peace. After seeing Rivers and Hastings shake hands
in his presence, he urges Queen Elizabeth, Dorset and Buckingham to drop
all animosity, too. These reconciliations effected, Edward remarks Gloucester
alone is wanting to make 'a perfect period' of peace, just as that brother
enters, jauntily bidding all present 'good morrow.' When the King joyfully
boasts he has done deeds of charity, Gloucester sanctimonously approves,
and, anxious to be at peace with all men too, begs pardon of all present,
sentimentally averring, ''tis death to me to be at enmity.' But when the Queen
kindly suggests it might be well to include Clarence in the general pardon,
Gloucester hotly reproaches her with levity, saying she must know the Duke is
dead. On hearing this, all present exclaim, and the King cries out that the
order was reversed. Gloucester, however, duly informs him 'a winged
Mercury', evidently bore his first, and 'a tardy cripple' his second message,
seeing it arrived too late.

It is now Derby appears, entreating that one of his servants, who has
committed an accidental murder, may be pardoned. Sadly inquiring how the
tongue which doomed a brother to death can be expected to pardon a slave.
King Edward sinks back overcome with grief, for he remembers how Clarence
assisted him in obtaining his crown, and fears God's justice will visit this crime
upon him and his. Such is his emotion, that, too ill to remain in public any
longer, he begs to be taken back to his apartment; and, while the Queen leads
Edward away, Gloucester slily inquires of the rest whether they noted how
pale the guilty kindred of her Majesty became at mention of Clarence's death,
thereby subtly accusing them of the murder.
A little later the Duchess of York occupies the stage with Clarence's children,
who, noting her tears, wonder whether their father can be dead? Not daring
otherwise to impart the terrible news, the Duchess assures them the King will
henceforth be their father, whereupon the boy blurts out his uncle Gloucester
said the Queen caused his father's death, when he offered to replace his
parent. Knowing what to think of Richard's hypocritical offers, the Duchess
exclaims 'Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, and with a virtuous
vizard hide foul guile!' a remark the boy fails to understand, and which is
closely followed by the entrance of Elizabeth, Rivers and Dorset.

So disheveled and woe-begone is the Queen's appearance that her mother-

in-law demands what it means, only to hear Elizabeth gasp the King is dead,
and wonder that the branches remain green when their root is withered. While
Elizabeth bitterly regrets her inability to follow her husband 'to his new
kingdom of perpetual rest,' the Duchess cries she, too, has cause to grieve,
since Edward was her son. Not only has she lost a husband, but 'two mirrors
of his princely semblance are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,' and all
that now remains to her is 'one false glass,' in the person of Richard! She
reminds Elizabeth that she still possesses all her children, although death has
deprived her of a husband, while Clarence's offspring comment that their aunt
shed no tears for their father. The recent losses all present have sustained,
cause a general lament, the Duchess' wail proving longest and loudest
because she has the most dead to weep for. Meantime, Dorset and Rivers try
to comfort Elizabeth by reminding her her son should be sent for, and
crowned Edward V.

Just then Gloucester, Buckingham and other lords come in, the first
obsequiously imploring the Queen to be comforted, and humbly craving his
mother's blessing. She gives it with the significant addition, may God 'put
meekness in thy mind, love, charity, obedience, and true duty,' whereupon
Gloucester adds a ribald aside. Then because Buckingham remarks that
although the late King is no more, they hope to reap 'the harvest of his son,'
and reminds all present the young Prince should be brought to London to be
crowned, all immediately volunteer to serve as his escort, until the new
monarch bids fair to be attended by uncles on both father's and mother's side,
for the two factions now seem friends. All the rest now departing, Buckingham
approaches Gloucester, artfully suggesting they go too, and devise on the
way some means to separate 'the Queen's proud kindred from the King.' This
suggestion is hailed with rapture by Gloucester, who flatteringly promises to
be guided by Buckingham, as they depart to meet Edward V.
In a London street, citizens discuss the late King's death and the coming of
the new monarch, commenting on coronations already seen. After mentioning
how Henry VI was crowned in Paris, at nine months of age, one of the citizens
adds that King had virtuous uncles to protect him, whereupon another protests
that Edward V has a wealth of uncles on both sides. This fact, however, may
give rise to jealous contentions, one bystander intimates, while another avers
that owing to 'a divine instinct men's minds mistrust ensuing dangers.'

Meantime; in the palace, the Archbishop informs the Queen-mother the royal
party spent the night at Stony Stratford, and will soon arrive in London. Both
mother and grandmother seem anxious to see young Edward, and wonder
whether he has grown much since they last beheld him; while his little brother,
the Duke of York, waxes indignant because told he is taller than Edward.
When his grandmother wonderingly queries why he resents such a proud fact,
the child explains Uncle Gloucester assured him 'small herbs have grace,
great weeds do grow apace.' But when the Duchess bitterly rejoins Richard
himself does not exemplify this saying, the little fellow wishes he had known
that sooner, and gives a sample of the wit he would have expended in twitting
Gloucester about that fact.

Just as this conversation ends, a messenger announces grievous news, and

when the Queen breathlessly inquires whether harm has befallen her son,
rejoins it does not concern him, but the Lords Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan,
who have been arrested by order of Gloucester and Buckingham, and
despatched to Pomfret. This news terrifies Elizabeth, who, seeing herself
suddenly deprived of the support of her kindred, apprehends the downfall of
her house, a dread her mother-in-law shares, for she does not trust her son
Richard. In her terror, Queen Elizabeth bids her second son accompany her to
sanctuary, whither the Duchess proposes to follow them, a move the
Archbishop approves since he offers to escort them thither.

Act III

The third act opens in a London street just as King Edward V arrives, closely
attended by the Dukes of Gloucester, Buckingham and others. Bending down
to the little monarch, Gloucester courteously bids him welcome, inquiring why
he looks so melancholy on a festive occasion? Sadly rejoining he wants 'more
uncles here to welcome' him, Edward listens perplexed while Glou- cester,
with feigned gentleness, explains that these men were dangerous, because
their 'sugar'd words' concealed the 'poison of their hearts.' Then he calls the
little King's attention to the fact that the Lord Mayor of London is coming to
greet him. After duly welcoming this imposing official, Edward inquires why his
mother and brother have not yet come to meet him, and why Hastings does
not return with tidings of them? Just then this lord appears alone, stating that
Elizabeth and her son have taken sanctuary, although the little Prince was so
eager to join his brother that his mother had to restrain him by force. Angrily
remarking the Queen Is acting foolishly, Buckingham bids the Cardinal and
Hastings fetch young York by force, adding, when the Cardinal exclaims
sanctuary privileges cannot be infringed, that such privileges are extended
only to criminals and do not concern innocent children.

After the Cardinal and Hastings have gone to fetch his brother, the young King
inquires where he is to lodge, and seems disappointed when Gloucester
informs him the Tower must be his present abode. Nevertheless, he inquires
whether this building was not erected by Julius Caesar, making such
precocious remarks In regard to it, that Richard takes occasion to mutter, wise
children 'never live long.' When Edward V boasts, however, that should he live
to be a man he will win back their ancient rights to France, his uncle further
ominously adds, 'short summers lightly have a forward spring.'

Just then Hastings and the Cardinal escort on the

stage the little Duke of York, who greets his
brother rapturously, and is duly welcomed by all
the noblemen present. The meeting of the two
little brothers proves very affectionate, but the
younger Prince is soon so attracted by
Gloucester's jeweled dagger, that he begs for it,
offending his uncle sorely a moment later by his
sharp, unchildlike remarks. On hearing whither
they are bound, this lad, too, shows a marked
aversion to the Tower, whispering that his
grandmother said his uncle Clarence was
murdered there, and that he fears to encounter
his ghost. But, when the young monarch stoutly
avers he fears no uncles dead, Gloucester
ostentatiously assuring him he need fear none living either, sends both
Princes on to the Tower.

Left alone, on the scene, Gloucester, Buckingham and Catesby comment

upon little York's forward talk, and wonder whether Hastings can be bribed to
share their views. Finally, it is suggested Catesby should sound Hastings and
Stanley, breaking off negotiations should they betray unwillingness to further
their plans, and merely inviting them instead to the Tower to arrange for the
coronation. Meanwhile, Gloucester sends word by Catesby to the governor of
Pomfret, to execute his prisoners on the morrow, jocosely concluding this grim
message with a kiss for Mistress Shore. As Catesby goes out promising his
friends shall hear from him ere they sleep, Buckingham wonders what shall be
done with Hastings, in case he does not subscribe to their plans, to which
question Gloucester briefly replies, 'chop off his head,' promising Buckingham
this nobleman's estates, ere they go off to supper together.

In the next scene, a messenger warns Hastings at early dawn that Stanley
considers it unsafe to remain in England, since he dreamt a boar attacked
them, and has heard rumours of a double council. The boar is, of course,
Richard, whom Stanley dares not designate more openly, although it is quite
clear he advises his friend to flee with him northward, and thus 'shun the
danger that his soul devines.' In spite of this warning, Hastings, sure that
Catesby will warn him should danger arise, decides to visit Edward V in the
Tower on the morrow. Barely has Stanley's messenger departed when
Catesby enters, oracularly announcing the world 'will never stand upright till
Richard wear the garland of realm.' At first, Hastings does not understand this
remark, but when its significance finally dawns upon him, he loyally avers his
head will have to be cut off before the crown can be so foully misplaced. Still,
hearing next that the Queen's kindred, — his personal foes, — are to be
executed, Hastings openly rejoices, remarking that twelve months hence they
will laugh over this tragedy. In return Catesby meaningly informs him many
others are marked for death, including some men 'who think themselves as
safe as thou and I.'

Before this conversation with Catesby ends, Stanley himself appears to renew
his warning to Hastings, for the news of the separate councils greatly
disquiets him. He, therefore, personally urges Hastings to flee with him,
reminding him how little Edward V's uncles suspected what awaited them
when they rode forth to escort him to London. When Hastings gleefully
inquires whether he has heard these lords are to be beheaded, Stanley
rejoins he is not surprised, just as a messenger comes in, whose appearance
drives both Stanley and Catesby away. To this messenger Hastings rashly
confides his satisfaction over the execution of the Queen's kindred, and richly
rewards him for the message he brings.

This man having gone, a priest appears, to whom Hastings also joyously
promises a donation next Sunday, just as Buckingham enters, jokingly
remarking that while his friends at Pomfret may stand in need of a priest's
offices, Hastings surely has no 'shriving work in hand.' Hearing Buckingham is
on his way to the Tower, Hastings volunteers to accompany him thither,
affirming he is due there for dinner, and never noticing his interlocutor's grim
aside that he will be there for supper also, although he does not now suspect
this fact.

The curtain next rises on Pomfret castle, as the governor orders the prisoners
brought forth to be executed. Rivers, Grey and Vaughan, addressing him in
turn, claim they are dying 'for truth, for duty and for loyalty,' and predict that
those who ordered this execution will live to rue it. Without heeding these
threats, the governor bids the executioner proceed, while each of the
prisoners solemnly curses Pomfret Castle, and Grey acknowledges
Margaret's curse has already fallen on their heads. Then all three pray their
blood may not be visited on the young King, and having taken leave of each
other until they 'meet in heaven,' are led away to the block.

In the Tower of London a council has assembled to appoint a day for the
coronation. After some discussion in regard to the Lord Protector's wishes,
Hasting is about to decide the matter without consuiting him, when Richard
suddenly enters the room. After graciously greeting all present, Gloucester
turns to the Archbishop of Ely, declaring he has seen such fine strawberries in
his garden that he is anxious to taste them. Pleased with such condescension,
the Archbishop hurries out to send for the berries, while Gloucester, drawing
Buckingham aside, whispers that Catesby reports Hastings vehemently
opposed to their plans. To consult on their next move, Buckingham and
Gloucester withdraw, while the rest converse about unimportant matters until
the Archbishop returns, announcing he has sent for the coveted fruit. All now
comment upon Gloucester's particularly amiable mood, Hastings confidently
asserting 'there's never a man in Christendom that can less hide his love or
hate than he; for by his face straight shall you know his heart.'

They are still discussing Gloucester's unwonted geniality, when he reenters

with Buckingham, angrily demanding what punishment should be awarded to
those who have practiced witchcraft upon him? When Hastings promptly
rejoins such offenders deserve death, Gloucester suddenly exhibits an arm
withered from birth, declaring It was brought to this state by the magic arts of
Queen Elizabeth and Mistress Shore! Because Hastings ventures to say that
if they have done this they deserve punishment, Gloucester hotly denounces
him as a traitor, and orders him removed, vowing he will not dine until he sees
his head! All now leave the apartment. In terror, save the guards who pinion
Hastings, while he exclaims, 'woe, woe for England,' bitterly regrets having
scorned Stanley's warning, and especially having triumphed over foes he was
to follow so soon. He, too, realises Margaret's curse has fallen upon him, and
leaves the room grimly reminding his guards, 'they smile at me that shortly
shall be dead.'
In the Tower, Gloucester next asks Buckingham why he quakes and changes
colour, at the mere mention of a crime? Stung by this taunt, Buckingham
boasts he can counterfeit, too, and offers to play the tragedian whenever his
friend wishes. Meantime, he wonders where Catesby may be, only to learn he
has gone to fetch the Lord Mayor, with whom he now appears.

No sooner has the Lord Mayor been ushered into the Tower precincts, than
Gloucester orders the draw-bridge raised and the walls manned, proceedings
which sorely frighten this official. A moment later some guards lay Hastings'
head at Gloucester's feet as that of a traitor. With consummate hypocrisy,
Gloucester now explains to the Mayor how dearly he loved Hastings and how
he confided his secrets to him, only to fall victim of his and Mistress Shore's
magic. He adds that Hastings also wove dark plots to murder the Mayor, news
which amazes his interlocutor. Still, the accusations which Gloucester piles up
against Hastings, finally convince him so thoroughly of this nobleman's guilt,
that the Mayor declares he richly deserved death. Hearing this, Gloucester
bids him go forth and explain this point to the people, who might else feel
inclined to censure him, and the credulous official bustles out to make the
necessary proclamation.

After he has gone, Gloucester directs Buckingham to follow him, and make
use of the first opportunity to intimate Edward's children are illegitimate, and
that the late King himself had little right to the throne. Still, as this latter point
reflects upon his mother's honour, Richard wishes it touched upon very
sparingly. Eager to play the orator and earn 'his golden fee,' Buckingham
hastens out, promising in case he succeeds In convincing the people, to bring
their representatives to Baynard Castle, where it is arranged Gloucester will
be found absorbed In pious exercises. Bidding him expect news ere long,
Buckingham disappears, while Gloucester gives orders that sundry divines
meet him in his retreat, muttering that, meanwhile, he proposes to dispose
privately of Clarence's brats, and to prevent all access to the little Princes.

In a London street, a public writer contemplates the paper he has just

engrossed, wherein Hastings' crimes are duly set down, commenting that
although this nobleman was not arrested when the task was entrusted to him,
he is already dead! The scrivener concludes, — although he is not bold
enough to denounce it, — that this is 'a papable device,' and that 'all will come
to nought, when such bad dealing must be seen in thought.'

In Bayard Castle Gloucester eagerly asks Buckingham how the citizens

received his hints in regard to the illegitimacy of Edward IV's children and his
lack of right to the English crown. After explaining how clearly he set it all
forth, — calling attention to the fact how little Edward resembled his father,
while Richard is the exact counterpart of the Duke, of York, — Buckingham
declares that although he had stationed men to cheer, 'God save Richard,
England's royal King,' at the end of his speech, less than ten voices finally
took up the cry. Still, afraid to wait for greater concurrence, he avers he
effusively thanked the people, declaring 'this gen- eral applause and cheerful
shout argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard.' Although angry
because no greater enthusiasm was shown, Gloucester seems relieved to
learn the Lord Mayor has come to tender him the crown. Cunningly advising
him to arm himself with a prayer-book, appear only between two clergymen,
and 'play the maid's part' and refuse the crown, Buckingham now leaves,
assuring Richard he will act as people's advocate, and that provided
Gloucester act his role well, their trick will be brought 'to a happy issue.'

After Gloucester has vanished, Buckingham receives the Lord Mayor and
citizens, who are told by Catesby the Duke of Gloucester cannot see them for
he is holding a day of prayer. Virtuously stating the great should sacrifice their
own inclinations for public good, Buckingham sends Catesby back to Richard,
assuring the Lord Mayor, meantime, that Gloucester is a very different sort of
man from Edward, and that If England only had such a sovereign, all would be
happy indeed. He ruefully adds, however, that there is little prospect Richard
will accept the crown, thus causing the Mayor to express a most fervent hope
he will not decline their proposals.

Just then Catesby returns, and when Buckingham inquires what message he
brings, rejoins that Gloucester mistrusts so great a concourse of citizens.
Pretending to be offended by such doubts, Buckingham sends Catesby back
a third time, remarking to the Mayor it is hard indeed to draw a man from the
sweet contemplation of religion. A moment later Gloucester appears above, —
between two priests, — and Buckingham duly calls the Mayor's attention both
to his company and to the prayerbook in his hand. Addressing the crowd
below, Gloucester now declares his readiness to serve his friends, and when
Buckingham accuses him of wronging the country by refusing to assume the
crown, pretends to hesitate whether to depart in silence or to reprove him.
Still, Richard temperately admits he can see the people love him, but adds
that even were the crown his own, he would shrink from assuming the duties
of royalty, as he does not feel worthy of so great an honour. When he carefully
reminds the people there is an heir to the English throne, Buckingham
exclaims Edward V has no real claim to the sceptre, and fervently urges 'good
my lord, take to yourself this proffer'd benefit of dignity.'
The Mayor, listening with credulous ears, also Implores Gloucester to yield,
although the latter continues reluctant until Buckingham, In feigned anger,
chides him for refusing to do his duty, and vows If he does not accept, they
will place some one else on the throne, for they are determined his brother's
son shall never reign over them! Buckingham is just marching off the scene in
apparent dudgeon after this ultimatum, when Catesby prevails upon
Gloucester to call him back. When Buckingham reappears, therefore, Richard
piously exclaims since they are so determined to 'buckle fortune' on his back,
he will patiently endure the load, hoping that having forced this unwelcome
office upon him, they will ever hold him free from blame. The Mayor is first to
express satisfaction at this acceptance, and Buckingham to salute Richard as
King, an acclamation in which the citizens hastily join, ere they are told the
new Monarch will be publicly crowned on the morrow. Then Richard
ostentatiously returns to his holy duties, having throughout this scene
maintained the attitude of the ultra-pious man.

Act IV

The fourth act opens before the Tower, where Queen Elizabeth, the Duchess
of York, and Anne, — Duchess of Gloucester, — appear with other ladles.
After exchanging greetings with the rest, Anne volunteers she has come hither
to congratulate the young Princes, and all are about to step In when stopped
by the lleutentant, from whom Elizabeth eagerly begs news of her sons. When
told that although well, she cannot see them, — the King having forblden her
admittance, — Elizabeth wonderlngly Inquires 'the King! why, who's that?'
Then, the lieutenant confusedly states the order was given by the Lord
Protector, whose arbitrary prohibition is hotly resented by mother,
grandmother and aunt. The lieutenant has just vanished, reiterating he cannot
admit them, when Lord Stanley joins the ladles, politely stating he will soon be
able to greet the Duchess of York as mother of two Queens. Then, turning to
Anne, he bids her accompany him immediately to Westminster Abbey, for she
is to be crowned there with Richard!

This first intimation that little Edward V's claims have been set aside, causes
Queen Elizabeth to fall half swooning into the arms of her son Dorset, whom
she feebly implores to hurry away since she perceives her children are
doomed to fall beneath 'the thrall of Margaret's curse.' So pertinent does this
advice seem to Stanley, that he, too, urges the youth to depart, promising to
forward by him letters to his son.

Meanwhile, the Duchess of York wails she hatched a 'cockatrice,' and Anne,
although reluctant, prepares to accompany Stanley, sadly hoping she may die
ere men can cry 'God save the Queen!' Urging her to obey lest she prejudice
her interests, Elizabeth further assures her she does not envy her, and Anne
leaves, wailing that even as she followed her father-in-law to the grave,
Richard wooed and won her, although she never felt affection for him, and has
never been able to sleep in peace at his side. Besides, she realises that
Richard hates her, and means to get rid of her, and gently pities Elizabeth,
who in return compassionates her. Meantime, the aged Duchess of York
urges Dorset to join Richmond, bids Anne obey Richard, and implores
Elizabeth to return to sanctuary, adding that having lived eighty odd years in
sorrow, her sole hope is now the grave! Leaving the scene, Elizabeth gazes
mournfully up at the Tower, — a rough cradle for her tender babes, — and
fervently prays it will use them well.

The newly-crowned Richard enters his London palace escorted by

Buckingham, Catesby and others. Bidding the rest withdraw, Richard,
addressing the obsequious Buckingham, states that as he has mounted the
steps of the throne with his assistance, he intends to bestow upon him a fitting
reward. Then, in a whisper, Richard III adds he wishes first to put
Buckingham's fidelity to the touch, and thus ascertain whether he is 'current
gold indeed.' Invited to speak plainly, and so make his wishes clear, Richard
avers that as long as Edward V lives, he cannot reign in peace. Then,
perceiving Buckingham does not understand this hint, Richard plainly states
he wishes the 'bastards dead,' showing marked displeasure when
Buckingham begs permission to withdraw, so as to think the matter over.

Meantime, Catesby, watching the new monarch, concludes he is very angry

since he bites his lips. After muttering that Buckingham has grown strangely
circumspect, Richard summons his page, from whom he inquires whether he
knows a man who could be bribed 'unto a close exploit of death?' When the
page rejoins there is 'a discontented gentleman,' for whom gold would be as
persuasive 'as twenty orators,' Richard eagerly sends for this Tyrrel, grimly
averring 'the deep-revolving witty Buckingham no more shall be the neighbour
to my counsel.'

Just then Stanley enters, reporting that Dorset has gone to join Richmond
beyond the seas. These tidings seem not altogether unwelcome to Richard,
who immediately bids Catesby spread the news that his wife Anne is likely
soon to die. He adds, that he intends shortly to marry Clarence's daughter to
some mean born gentleman, to imprison the foolish boy, and as soon as his
wife is removed, to murder the young Princes and marry their sister,
exclaiming 'I am in so far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.' Just then the page
ushers in the murderer Tyrrel, who presents himself as the King's 'most
obedient subject,' and who, when asked whether he has sufficient resolution
to kill one of his Majesty's friends, bluntly retorts he had rather kill two of his
enemies. When Richard informs Tyrrel he has two such foes in the Princes in
the Tower, the murderer promptly pledges himself to dispose of them both,
provided he is given free access to their persons. Then, after a short
whispered conference, Tyrrel leaves, Richard inquiring as he does so,
whether he shall hear from him before he sleeps, and receiving an affirmative
answer.

A moment after Tyrrel has gone, Buckingham reenters, stating he has duly
considered the King's proposal. To his surprise, however, Richard seems
utterly indifferent, and will talk of nothing but Dorset's flight. But, when
Buckingham reminds his new master that Hastings' estates were promised
him, Richard suddenly turns a deaf ear and warns Stanley should his stepson
correspond with the fugitives, he will be held answerable for such treason.
Then Richard muses aloud that Henry VI. once prophesied that Richmond
should be King, and wonders why he failed to add that Richard would kill him?
Undeterred by a tacit refusal, Buckingham again pleads for his promised
reward, only to hear Richard remark an Irish bard predicted he would not live
long after seeing Richmond, which he takes to mean a castle of that name.
When Buckingham a third time emphatically claims Hastings' spoils, Richard
petulantly informs him he is not in the giving vein to-day, and leaves the room,
an act of discourtesy which so angers Buckingham that he mutters, 'made I
him King for this?' Then, remembering Hastings' speedy end, he suddenly
decides to escape while his 'fearful head is on!'

A moment later Tyrrel returns, declaring 'the tyrannous and bloody deed Is
done,' and describing how the men hired to perform the crime, melted with
tenderness and compassion when they related how they found the little
Princes asleep in each others' arms, a book of prayer beside them on their
pillow. Tyrrel adds that these wretches smothered 'the most replenished sweet
work of nature, that from the prime creation e'er she framed,' and stole away
conscience-stricken, leaving him to notify King Richard his wishes have been
fulfilled. Just then Richard joins Tyrrel, seems delighted to learn all is over,
inquires whether he saw the children dead and buried, and bids him return
after supper to receive his reward and describe 'the process of their death.'

After Tyrrel has gone, Richard rejoices that Clarence's son is imprisoned, his
daughter meanly married, Edward's boys dead, and Anne, his wife, dying.
Knowing Richmond wishes to marry Princess Elizabeth, Richard is
determined to anticipate him, and plumes himself fatuously upon being a 'jolly
thriving wooer.' Just then Catesby appears unsummoned, to announce that
Ely and Buckingham have fled to join Richmond, defections which determine
Richard to muster his forces immediately, since 'we must be brief when
traitors brave the field.'

When the curtain next rises, Queen Margaret is seen standing before the
palace, saying she is about to depart for France, having witnessed the
downfall of some of her adversaries, and still hoping the 'consequence will
prove as bitter, black, and tragical' for the rest. Just then Elizabeth enters,
wailing over the death of her 'unblown flowers,' a lament which fails to touch
Margaret's heart. With Elizabeth comes the Duchess of York, who also
mourns her many losses, until Margaret informs her she is merely paying for
all that was taken from her! The three-fold lament of these women, — who sit
down on the palace steps to bewail their losses, — proves heart-rending,
since each enumerates the sorrows brought to her by the fatal Wars of the
Roses. Finally, Elizabeth admits Margaret prophesied rightly when she
foretold the time would come when they would ask her aid to curse 'that
bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad,' and all three unite in reviling
Richard. Then Margaret expresses regret for the curses she uttered, and
seeing her rivals' sorrows fully equal hers, bids them a kindly farewell,
assuring them their woes will ever haunt her.

When she has gone, the Duchess of York and Elizabeth give way to their
grief, lamenting until Richard enters in all the panoply of war. Seeing these
women block his pathway, he demands what their presence means, and to
silence the elaborate curses his mother and sister-in-law lavish upon him, bids
the trumpets drown their voices. Still, even then, under cover of the noise, his
mother reproaches him, declaring how patient she was with him during a
fretful childhood, and although he refuses to listen to her, she avers she will
pray against him, and leaves the scene exclaiming, 'bloody thou art, bloody
will be thy end; shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.'

Meantime, Richard has joined Queen Elizabeth, all of whose denunciations he

meets with tender inquiries for her daughter. Hearing him pronounce this
Princess' name, the terrified Elizabeth wonders whether this child must die,
too, and frantically vows she will tell any lie to save her. Only gradually can
Richard make her understand he has no designs against her daughter's life,
but wishes instead to marry her; and, in spite of her evident horror of the
match, artfully tries to convince her she can recover all she has lost in this
way. He promises, in case she brings about the marriage, to forgive Dorset
and the other rebels, and thus gradually induces her to use her influence to
persuade her daughter to listen to his suit. Throughout this dialogue, wherein
Elizabeth shows great bitterness at first, Richard cleverly answers every
objection, finally sending lover-like messages to the young Princess, whom he
intends to espouse soon as he has chastised Richmond. But, after Elizabeth
has left him, still gazing at him in fascinated horror, he shows his contempt for
her character by terming her a 'relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman !'

While he is still standing there, Ratcliff and Catesby report that a powerful fleet
is sailing toward the western coast, where Buckingham has mustered an army
to welcome Richmond. Sending messengers in different directions to summon
aid, Richard, in his excitement, hotly terms Catesby a 'dull, unmindful villain,'
simply because he does not hurry to execute orders before they are put into
words!

While Richard is still in this whirl of emotion, Stanley enters reporting the news
is only too true, and that Richmond, supported by Dorset, Buckingham and
Ely, comes to claim the crown. In his indignation, Richard hotly demands
whether the throne is empty, the sword unswayed, the King dead, or the
empire unpossessed? Then after some conversation with his friends, —
whom he accuses of being ready to join the foe, — he orders Stanley to
depart, grimly warning him unless he remain faithful, his son, whom he retains
as hostage, will be in dire peril. After Stanley's departure, successive
messengers announce defections and uprisals, until Richard chastises the
last, angrily declaring they are all owls who sing 'nothing but songs of death.'
The only encouragement he receives arises from a lying rumor that
Richmond's fleet has been destroyed by a tempest. Richard is about to leave
to suppress the rebellion, when Catesby informs him Buckingham has been
taken prisoner, and Richmond has landed; tidings which determine Richard to
hasten away, exclaiming 'a royal battle might be won and lost' while they
stand arguing.

We are now transferred to Stanley's house, while he secretly confers with a

friend, through whom he sends word to Richmond that he cannot join him
without endangering the life of his son, now a hostage in Richard's hands.
Nevertheless, Stanley plainly shows which way he is inclined, since he notifies
Richmond that Elizabeth consents to give him her daughter in marriage, as is
set forth in the letters he delivers.

Act V

The fifth act opens near Salisbury, on the square where the sheriff leads
Buckingham to execution. On learning he is not to see the King before
perishing, Buckingham mournfully declares the murders he helped Richard
commit are avenged, for he realises this is a just retribution of his crimes, and
that he brought his fate down upon himself when he prayed destruction might
visit him should he prove false to Edward and his children. He, too, recognises
Margaret's curse has been fulfilled, and bids the executioners convey him 'to
the block of shame'; saying, 'Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of
blame.'

We next behold the camp, where Richmond states his men have marched
thus far without impediment, to dethrone 'the wretched, bloody, and usurping
boar,' for it is thus he designates Richard III. All present feel so sure
Richmond's cause is just, that they expect many of Richard's so-called friends
to join their ranks.

The next scene is played on Bosworth Field, in Richard's camp, just as he is

giving orders to pitch his tent, and inquiring why his friends seem so
depressed? When they attribute their dismay to certain desertions, Richard
jauntily informs them 'we must have knocks,' and hearing the enemy's army is
only one-third as large as his own, expresses great confidence in a coming
victory, and warns all to be ready, since 'to-morrow is a busy day.'

Just after King Richard has marched off with his forces, Richmond appears
with his, declaring he has beheld in the sunset satisfactory omens of good
fortune for the morrow. After apportioning positions to his different followers,
he inquires where Stanley's force is quartered, and seems surprised to learn it
is nearly a mile away from Richard's. Then, after charging a messenger to
bear a letter to Stanley, — a charge this gentleman is ready to perform at the
risk of his life, — Richmond Invites the rest of his officers into his tent, to
confer about the morrow's business.

The interior of Richard's tent is next revealed, just as he inquires the time,
begs for ink and paper, and wonders whether the necessary alterations have
been made in his armor. Besides, he warns his gentlemen to 'stir with the lark
to-morrow,' and after they have retired, directs Catesby to charge Stanley to
join him before sunrise, 'lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal
night.' Catesby having gone, too, Richard orders a steed for the morrow, and
Inquires about sundry followers, ere calling for wine, wondering because he
has not 'that alacrity of spirit, nor cheer of mind' that he was wont to have.

Meanwhile, Richmond, too. Is making final arrangements, and inquires of his

step-father Stanley news of his mother, who sends him her blessing and prays
for his success, as well as for that of his young step-brother, who is to fight
beneath his orders for the first time. Bidding his step-father watch over the
youth, whose regiment is stationed a short distance from his own, Richmond
prepares to sleep, 'lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, when I
should mount with wings of victory.' Then, having dismissed his men, and
breathed a fervent prayer, commending 'his watchful soul' to God, he falls
asleep.

While he and Richard are both wrapped in slumber on either side of the battle-
field, ghosts appear in the space between the two tents, and alternately
address the two sleepers. Thus, we first behold the spectre of Prince Edward,
— son of Henry VI, — accusing Richard of slaying him, and bidding him
'despair and die,' ere he turns to Richmond, charging him to 'live and flourish.'
The spirit of Clarence next denounces Richard and encourages Richmond,
and is followed by the shades of Rivers, Grey, Vaughan and Hastings, all of
whom predict woe to Richard and success to Richmond. Then come the
slender wraiths of two little princes, bidding Richard die, and Richmond live to
'beget a happy race of kings,' ere Lady Anne glides in, sighing she never
knew quiet as Richard's wife, and wishes all success to his adversary. Last of
all appears Buckingham, — Richard's most recent victim, — bidding him
dream of bloody deeds and death, but charging his opponent not to be
dismayed, since 'God and good angels fight on Richmond's side; and Richard
falls in height of all his pride.'

As this last ghost vanishes, Richard rouses from his restless slumber, thinking
he has been in the fray and is sorely wounded. On discovering it is midnight,
that he is in his tent, and that cold drops stand out all over his body, he
confesses, 'my conscience hath a thousand several tongues, and every
tongue brings in a several tale, and every tale condemns me for a villain.'
Nevertheless, although he hates himself for hateful deeds committed, he
clings to life, and is determined to defend it to the utmost. While he is
meditating on these visions, a servant announces the cock has crowed, and it
is time to buckle on his armor. To this man Richard confides his awful dream,
wondering whether his friends will prove true? When the man avers he need
not fear shadows, Richard ruefully admits 'shadows to-night have struck more
terror to the soul of Richard than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.' Then, he decides to prowl
around the tents and play eaves-dropper so as to ascertain whether any of his
adherents are likely to desert him.

Meantime, the lords rouse Richmond, only to hear him declare he has enjoyed
'the sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams that ever enter'd in a drowsy
head,' adding he was visited by Richard's victims who all promised him
victory. On hearing it is time to arm, he eloquently addresses his soldiers,
urging them to fight for the right, and use his name as their battle cry.
A moment after he has gone, Richard appears, remarking to his attendants
that Richmond is an untrained soldier, and wondering that the sun has not yet
risen. Although Richard fears 'the sky doth frown and lour upon our army,' he
is comforted by the thought it is equally menacing to his foe. Just then, Norfolk
joins him, urging him to arm as the enemy is already in the field, so Richard
gives his last directions for the battle. After he has done so, Norfolk exhibits a
paper he found pinned on his tent with a mysterious warning, 'Jockey of
Norfolk, be not too bold, for Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' This rude
rhyme seems a device on the part of the enemy to frighten Richard, who pays
little heed to it, and stepping forward addresses his men, claiming his
adversary should be promptly driven out of England since his intentions are
evil. In the midst of this address, drums sound, and at its close a messenger
reports the elder Stanley refuses obedience. In hot anger, Richard is about to
order young Stanley beheaded, when those around him remind him it
behooves them to meet the advancing foe, and that it will be well to postpone
revenge until later.

In another part of the battle-field, fighting forces hurry to and fro, until Catesby
is heard imploring Norfolk to hasten to their rescue, for although the King has
done wonders, his horse has been slain and he is now fighting on foot. Unless
Norfolk succor him the day will be lost. Just then Richard rushes on the stage,
frantically calling, 'a horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!' When Catesby
tries to entice him away, he declares he has set his life upon a cast, and 'will
stand the hazard of the die,' adding that five times already he fancied he had
slain his rival! He hurries off the scene still vainly clamouring for a steed.

In another part of the field, Richmond finally exclaims victory is his, and
receives the congratulations of Stanley, who brings him the crown, plucked
from Richard's corpse, and still stained with his blood! After returning thanks
for his victory, Richmond eagerly inquires which lords have perished in the
fray. Then, giving precise orders for the burial of the dead, he offers pardon to
'the soldiers fled that in submission will return to us,' adding that after taking
the sacrament, he proposes to be wedded to Elizabeth of York, thus uniting
the 'white rose and the red.' He piously hopes heaven will smile upon this fair
conjunction, so that their houses may 'enrich the time to come, with smooth-
faced peace, with smiling plenty and fair prosperous days!' Finally he leaves
the stage proclaiming, 'civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: that she
may long live here, God say, amen!'

King John: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's English History Plays by Helene Adeline Guerber. New York: Dodd,
Mead and company.

Act I

The first act opens in the palace of King John, where he is giving an audience
to the French ambassador. Summoned to deliver his message, this emissary,
after an insulting mention of 'borrowed majesty' calls upon King John of
England to surrender to Arthur Plantagenet, son of his elder brother Geffrey,
all England, Ireland, and the English possessions in France. When John
haughtily inquires what King Philip of France will do in case he refuse, the
ambassador rejoins by a formal declaration of war, to which John retorts 'war
for war,' warning the ambassador he will be in France almost before his arrival
can be announced.

The French ambassador having left under safe conduct, Elinor, mother of
King John, exclaims she was right in predicting Constance would urge France
to war for her son's rights, and reminds John how all could have been settled
amicably had he listened to her. Just as John asserts that possession and
right are both on his side, — to which his mother does not agree, — the
announcement is made that a strange controversy awaits royal decision.

Bidding the contestants appear, John mutters that his abbeys and priories will
have to bear the expense of the coming expedition to France, ere the two men
are ushered in. On questioning them, the King learns one is Robert
Faulconbridge, son of a soldier, knighted by his brother Richard, and the
other, Philip, illegitimate son of the same knight, who claims inheritance. While
both young men are sure they descend from the same mother, Philip the elder
expresses doubts in regard to his father, for which Elinor reproves him. Only
when he exclaims, however, that he is thankful not to resemble Sir Roger,
does Elinor notice his strong resemblance to her son Richard, to which she
calls John's attention.

Both brothers now begin to plead their cause before the King, interrupting and
contradicting one another, the younger claiming how during his father's
absence, Richard induced his mother to break her marriage vows. He adds,
that aware of her infidelity, the father left all he had to him, cutting off the elder
entirely, although John says the law entitles him to a share of Sir Robert's
estate, since he was bom in wedlock. Thereupon Robert asks whether his
father had no right to dispose of his property as he pleased, while Elinor
questions whether Philip would rather be considered the son of Richard
Lionheart and forfeit all claim to Faulconbridge, or vice-versa. Thus cornered,
Philip confesses he would not resemble his brother or Sir Robert for anjrthing
in the world, and when Elinor invites him to forsake all and follow her to
France, — where he can win honors in the war, — he joyfully hands over the
disputed estates to his brother, and swears he will follow Elinor to the death.
Then King John knights Philip, who magnanimously shakes hands with his
'brother by the mother's side,' thus displaying so much of Richard's spirit, that
Elinor and John acknowledge him as their kin.

All leaving the stage save the new knight, he merrily congratulates himself
upon the airs he can now assume, and proposes to fit himself for knightly
society by secret practice and by close observation. His soliloquy is
interrupted by the entrance of his mother, Lady Faulconbridge, who chides
him for speaking disrespectfully of Sir Robert, But, after dismissing her
attendant, Philip bluntly informs her that, knowing Sir Robert is not his father,
he has renounced all claims to the Faulconbridge estates. After some demur,
his mother confesses his surmises have been correct, and that King Richard
is indeed his father, whereupon he exclaims, 'Ay, my mother, with all my heart
I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well
when I was got, I'll send his soul to hell.' This understanding reached,
Faulconbridge leads his mother out to introduce her at court, promising to
champion her on every occasion.

Act II

The second act opens in France, before the city of Angiers (Angers), where
Austria's forces are drawn up on one side, and the French on the other.
Stepping forward, the Dauphin greets 'Austria,' telling young Arthur and his
mother Constance, that although once a foe of Richard, Austria is now trying
to make amends by helping the rightful heir to his throne. At his request,
Arthur embraces this former family foe, freely forgiving him the past, and
bespeaking his aid for the future. After the Duke of Austria has pledged
himself with a kiss never to abandon Arthur's cause until he has won his rights
to England, — 'that white-faced shore, whose foot spurns back the ocean's
roaring tides and coops from other lands her islanders,' — Constance
effusively promises him a 'mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,' ere King Philip
in his turn pledges himself to lay his royal bones before Angiers or compel it to
recognise Arthur.

Constance is just imploring these champions of her son's rights to await the
ambassador's return, with, perchance, favourable news from England, when
he appears, bidding French and Austrians hasten to meet the English, who
follow close on his heels. This news is immediately confirmed by drum-beats,
announcing the approach of the foe, which fact surprises the French and
Austrian leaders, although they are ready to welcome them, for 'courage
mounteth with occasion.'

King John now marches on the stage escorted by his mother, suite, and army,
calling down peace upon France provided she yield to his demands, but woe
should she resist. His proud address is answered, in kind by King Philip of
France, who claims Arthur is the rightful possessor of England, and bids John
recognise him as king. Irritated by this demand, John haughtily demands
Philip's authority for this claim, only to receive reply that it is made in the name
of the Defender of Orphans. When John thereupon taunts Philip for usurping
authority, he is charged with that crime himself, ere Elinor and Constance,
joining in the quarrel, begin to revile one another hotly, for theirs is a feud of
longstanding.

In the midst of this quarrel, Elinor vows Arthur is not Geffrey's legitimate son,
whereupon Constance indignantly rebukes her, and turning to the lad
exclaims his grandmother is trying to cast shame upon him. The quarrel
between the women becomes so virulent that the Duke of Austria calls for
peace, only to be sneered at by the insolent Faulconbridge, who openly defies
him, although Blanch, niece of John, who is also present, evidently admires
him.

Finally, the French monarch silences the women and disputing nobles, and
turning once more to John summons him to surrender the lands he holds to
Arthur. After hotly retorting, 'my life as soon: I do defy thee, France,' John
invites young Arthur to join him, promising to give him more than France can
ever win by force. But, when Elinor tries to coax her grandson to side with
them, Constance bitterly suggests his grandmother will give him 'a plum, a
cherry, and a fig' in exchange for a kingdom, and by her jibes causes the
gentle prince to wail he would rather be dead, than the cause of 'this coil that's
made for me.' While Elinor attributes this cry to shame for his mother's
conduct, Constance deems it is occasioned by his grandmother's injustice,
which diverging opinions rekindle the quarrel, until both monarchs interfere to
silence them.

Trumpet blasts summoning a deputation from Angiers, end this vituperation,

so a citizen, acting as spokesman, demands why they have been summoned
to their walls, only to hear both kings claim they have come hither to seek aid
to defend the rights of England's King. Addressing the deputation first, King
John accuses France of trying to awe them into subjection, whereupon King
Philip urges them to remain faithful to their rightful sovereign, adding the
threat that should they refuse to obey Arthur, he will compel them to do so.
Diplomatically replying they are the King of England's faithful subjects, the
spokesman refuses to decide which is the rightful claimant to England's
crown, and vows Angiers' gates shall remain closed until the dispute has been
duly settled.

When King John loudly asserts he is the only rightful bearer of the English
crown, - a statement in which he is supported by his nephew Faulconbridge,
— the French King urges the citizens not to believe him. Thus starts a new
dispute, at the end of which it is decided the question shall be settled by the
force of arms, so King Philip brings the momentous interview to a close with
the words: 'God and our right!'

Shortly after, the French herald, in full panoply, formally summons Angiers to
open its gates to Arthur, only to be immediately followed by an English herald,
in similar array, demanding admittance for John. To these double summons
the men of Angiers respectfully reply they are merely waiting to know which is
their lawful sovereign, before they welcome their king. Both monarchs now
enter the battlefield with their respective forces, John sarcastically demanding
whether France has blood to squander, only to receive as rejoinder from Philip
that he will defeat him or die. Impatient to fight, Faulconbridge inquires why
they stop to parley, whereupon both kings, raising their voices, bid Angiers
state with which party it sides, only to receive the same reply that it is loyal to
the King of England. This diplomacy enrages Faulconbridge, who, declaring
they are flouting both kings, suggests the besiegers join forces to subdue the
insolent rebels, deciding the matter of rightful ownership afterwards. This
proposal suits both monarchs, who immediately agree upon the measures to
be taken, arranging that the French, English, and Austrians shall attack
Angiers from different points.

Just as they are about to begin operations, the citizens beg for a hearing, and
propose in their turn that John's niece. Lady Blanch, be married to the
Dauphin, for whom she would make an ideal wife, vowing 'this union shall do
more than battery can,' since they will then fling open their gates to both kings.
This proposal fails to please Faulconbridge, who longs for the fray; but Elinor
urges John to accept it, which, after Philip calls upon him to speak first, he
formally does, stating he will give his niece as dowry all his lands in France,
save the town of Angiers. The Dauphin, after expressing eagerness to
conclude this match, whispers to Blanch, who in turn signifies maidenly
consent. The marriage portion John has promised to bestow upon his niece,
proves so enticing to Philip, that he bids the young couple join hands, while
the Duke of Austria suggests their betrothal be sealed with a kiss.

All preliminaries thus settled. King Philip calls upon Angiers to throw open its
gates, so the marriage of the Dauphin and Lady Blanch can be celebrated in
St. Mary's chapel, concluding his speech by stating his satisfaction that Arthur
and Constance have retired, as the latter would surely object to this
arrangement. Then, to satisfy the Dauphin, and French King, who ruefully
aver Constance has just cause for displeasure, John proposes to make Arthur
Duke of Brittany, and bids a messenger invite him and his mother to the
wedding.

All now leave the scene save Faulconbridge, who shrewdly comments John
has forfeited a small part of his possessions to prevent Arthur from securing
the whole, while the King of France has allowed the bribe of a rich alliance for
his son to turn him aside from his avowed purpose to uphold the right. He
jocosely adds that, as yet, no one has tried to bribe him, but that when the
attempt is made, he will immediately 3rield, because, 'since kings break faith
upon commodity gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.'

Act III

The third act opens in the tent of the French King, where Constance, having
just heard of the royal marriage, exclaims it cannot be true, and threatens to
have the Earl of Salisbury punished for trying to deceive her. She pitifully adds
that although a widow and prone to fear, she will forgive all, provided he
admits he has been jesting, and ceases to cast pitiful glances upon her son.
Unable to obey, Salisbury compassionately reiterates he has told the truth,
whereupon Constance wails she and her son have been betrayed. In her
grief, she bids Salisbury begone, and expresses sorrow when her son
implores her to be resigned, saying that were he some monster, she might
allow him to be deprived of his rights, but that, seeing his perfections, she
cannot endure his being set aside. Before leaving, Salisbury again reminds
her she is expected to join both kings, whereupon she vows she will be proud
in her grief, and seats herself upon the ground, declaring kings will have to do
homage to her, on her throne of sorrows, if they wish to see her.

The marriage guests now return from church, King Philip graciously assuring
his new-made daughter-in-law that this day shall henceforth be a festival for
France, whereupon Constance, rising in wrath from her lowly seat,
vehemently declares it shall forever be accursed! When King Philip tells her
she has no reason for anger as he will see she gets her rights, she accuses
him of betrating her cause, calls wildly upon heaven to defend a widow, and
prays that discord may soon arise between these perjured kings, although all
present try to silence her. Even the Duke of Austria becomes the butt of her
wrath and contempt, for she scornfully bids him don some other garb than the
lion's skin on which he prides himself, — an insult he cannot avenge as it is
uttered by a woman. Instead, he turns his wrath upon Faulconbridge, when
the latter ventures to repeat some of Constance's strictures on royal
interference.

It is at this moment that the papal legate enters, announcing he has been sent
to inquire of John, why, in spite of papal decrees, he refuses to permit
Stephen Langton to exercise his office as Archbishop of Canterbury. In return,
John denies the Pope's right to call him to account, and vows no Italian priest
shall collect tithes in his realm, where he considers himself supreme head
under God! His defiant reply smacks of heresy to King Philip, who, venturing
to reprove him, is informed that although all other Christian monarchs may
submit to the Pope's dictation, be, John, will continue to oppose him, and to
consider his friends foes. This statement causes the legate to pronounce
John's excommunication, and to declare that anyone taking his life will
deserve to be canonised for having performed a meritorious deed. Such a
denunciation so pleases Constance, that she adds a few curses addressed to
John for depriving her son of his inheritance, until reproved by the legate, who
summons Philip to break all alliance with John, since he has forfeited the
Pope's regard. Hoping for war, the Duke of Austria sides with the legate, while
Faulconbridge taunts him, and King John, Constance, Lewis, and Blanch
separately implore Philip to listen to them. All these entreaties merely perplex
the French monarch, who, turning to the legate, gravely informs him that
having just concluded an alliance with John, it seems an act of sacrilege to
break it. He is answered, in a Jesuitical speech, that the Church comes first,
and can release from all other vows. While his son and the Duke of Austria
urge him to obey the legate's summons, Faulconbridge and Blanch demur, the
latter begging husband and father-in-law not to take arms against her uncle.
On hearing this, Constance falls upon her knees, appealing to the honour of
the King and Dauphin, while Blanch appeals to their love.

The scene closes with Philip's decision to break faith with John and obey the
Church, — thereby winning the approval of the legate, his son, and
Constance, but incurring the scathing contempt of John, Elinor, and
Faulconbridge. Meanwhile poor Blanch sadly wonders with which party she
shall side, her relatives and husband now being opposed, and sadly yields
when the Dauphin reminds her her first duty is to remain with him. Then, King
John, turning to Faulconbridge, bids him summon his army, and defies King
Philip, who boldly answers his challenge ere he leaves.

The next scene is played on the plain near Angiers, where the battle is raging,
and Faulconbridge is seen bearing in triumph the Duke of Austria's head. A
moment later, King John appears with his nephew Arthur, whom he has taken
prisoner, and now intrusts to the keeping of Hubert, vowing he must hasten
back to rescue his mother, who is sorely pressed in her tent. Thereupon
Faulconbridge admits he has already delivered Elinor, and adds, 'very little
pains will bring this labour to a happy end.'

In the next scene the tide of battle sweeps to and fro across the stage, and
John is heard informing Elinor and Arthur that they are to remain behind under
strong guard, while Faulconbridge will hasten back to England, to wring from
the Church new sinews of war, a task so congenial to his violent nature, that
he departs vowing 'bell, book, and candle' shall not drive him back.

After he has gone, Elinor begins conversing with her grandson, while the King,
after lavishing some flattery upon Hubert, informs him he has matters of
importance to communicate, which he cannot reveal at present. Seeing
Hubert overcome by his condescension, John adds that if it were only
midnight, he would dare speak and test his loyalty, — a test Hubert is eager to
have applied. Thereupon John bids him keep a watchful eye upon young
Arthur, whom he designates as 'a serpent' in his way, hoping this hint will
suffice for Hubert to remove the impediment. But, seeing him still obtuse, John
proceeds to express himself so plainly, that Hubert assures him Arthur shall
not live, and thereby wins eager thanks from the King, who, taking leave of
mother and nephew, bids the latter follow Hubert.

The next scene is played in the royal French tent, where King Philip, the
legate, and Dauphin, are discussing the scattering of an English fleet by a
tempest, which damage only partly offsets the loss of Angiers, the seizure of
Arthur, and the death of so many brave Frenchmen. The Dauphin is
describing how cleverly the English are defending what they have won, when
Constance enters, and is pitied by King Philip for the loss of her son. No
consolation, however, can touch this bereaved mother, who wildly accuses
them all of treachery, and calls for death, in spite of all the King and legate
can do to quiet her. When they finally inform her this is madness, she hotly
denies it, vowing that were she only insane, she might forget her child or be
satisfied with some puppet in his stead, and, as she tears her hair in her grief,
Philip notes how grey it has turned, notwithstanding her youth.
Appealing to the legate, the poor mother asks in heart-broken tones whether
she will see and recognise in heaven the child who was her dearest treasure
on earth, and of whom she is so cruelly bereft? In her grief, she eloquently
describes the loveliness of her offspring, but pictures him so changed by
sorrow and imprisonment that even in heaven his mother will not be able to
recognise him. When the King and legate try to soothe her, she vows 'grief fills
the room up of my absent child' describing how she misses his constant
company and pretty ways, and declares that had they ever experienced a
similar loss they would better understand the sorrow which now overwhelms
her.

Seeing her depart still broken-hearted, Philip follows lest she do herself some
injury, while the Dauphin siezes this opportunity to tell the legate that 'bitter
shame hath spoiled the sweet world's taste,' for him, because the defeat of
the French forces wrankles deep in his heart. Although in reply to fears
expressed for Arthur's safety, the Dauphin confidently affirms John will be
satisfied in keeping Arthur imprisoned, the legate prophesies that if not dead
already, the Prince will soon be slain. Then, he urges the Dauphin to attack
England, — to which he has the next right, — before Faulconbridge can raise
reinforcements in men and money, using arguments which determine the
Dauphin to join him in urging the King to immediate action.

Act IV

The fourth act opens in a room in the castle, where

Hubert is bidding two executioners heat their irons red-
hot, and linger behind the arras until he stamps his
foot, when they are to rush forward and bind fast the
lad they find in his company. Because one of the men
mutters he hopes he is not doing this without warrant,
Hubert chides him; then, the men being duly
concealed, calls upon Arthur to join him. Entering with
a kindly greetftig for his keeper, Arthur, on noticing he
is low-spirited, claims he alone has a right to be
sorrowful, but that were he only free he would be 'as
merry as the day is long.' He pitifully adds that he is not
to blame for being Geffrey's son or heir to England, and
that he would gladly be Hubert's child so as to win his love.

This artless talk overcomes the jailor, who exclaims in an aside, that if he
converses any longer with such innocence, his 'mercy which lies dead,' will
awaken and prevent the execution of his plan. Struck by his unusual pallor,
Arthur now touchingly inquires whether Hubert is ill, offering to nurse him
because of the love he bears him, a devotion which proves so moving, that
with tears trickling down his cheeks, Hubert exhibits the orders he has
received, hoarsely asking the Prince whether he can read.

After perusing the order, Arthur piteously inquires whether both his eyes will
have to be put out with red-hot irons, and wonders whether Hubert will have
the heart to do this to the lad, who, when he once had a headache, forfeited
his rest to nurse him. When he concludes his eloquent appeal with the words,
'will you put out mine eyes? These eyes that never did nor never shall so
much as frown on you,' Hubert grimly insists he must do so, although Arthur
vows he would not believe it should an angel state he could be guilty of such
cruelty!

Steeling his heart against further pleading, Hubert stamps, whereupon the
executioners appear with red-hot irons and a rope, ready to carry out his
orders. Fleeing to Hubert's arms as his refuge, Arthur piteously clings to him,
vowing he will stand still, provided they do not bind him. By such promises, he
finally prevails upon Hubert to send the men away, and when they depart, —
glad to be spared such work, — he again inquires whether there is no appeal
against this awful sentence, describing in feeling terms the distress caused by
a mere speck in one's eye, and offering to sacrifice any other member in
preference. After a while he notices with relief, that the irons have grown too
cold to harm him, and when Hubert mutters they can be reheated, exclaims
the fire is nearly extinct, assuring Hubert, when he proposes to rekindle it by
blowing upon it, that it will 'blush and glow with shame of your proceedings.'
Conquered at last, Hubert exclaims he may keep his eyesight, although he
swore to commit this crime. These milder looks and tones relieve Arthur, who
cries he appeared like one disguised a while ago, but again resembles
himself! To escape the child's fervent gratitude, Hubert departs, vowing John
must be made to believe his nephew is dead, and reiterating his promise not
to injure Arthur 'for the wealth of all the world,' even though he risk his life!

The next scene occurs in King John's palace, where, crowned the second
time, he expresses delight at finding himself once more among his people.
The Dukes of Pembroke and Salisbury deem this second coronation
superfluous, for they declare one might as well 'gild refined gold,' 'paint the
lily,' 'throw a perfume on the violet,' as try to enhance the sanctity of a first
consecration. But, although both these noblemen plainly deem the ceremony
a mistake, John insists he was right in having it performed, ere he graciously
inquires what reforms they would like made in state affairs.
Speaking in the name of the English people, Pembroke begs John to set
Arthur free, for the imprisonment of a child is a great grievance to all his
subjects. Just after the King has promised to place Arthur in Pembroke's care,
Hubert comes in, and John hastily draws him aside. Meantime, Pembroke
exclaims to Salisbury that this is the very man who recently exhibited to one of
his friends a cruel warrant which he fears has since been executed. Watching
John, therefore, both mark his change of colour, and fancy it bodes ill in
regard to Prince Arthur. Then, drawing near them once more, John gravely
informs them Arthur is dead, whereupon the lords sarcastically comment upon
so opportune an end! Although John tries to defend himself by inquiring
whether they think he has command of 'the pulse of life,' they exclaim 'it is
apparent foul play,' and take leave of him forever, to go and find the Prince's
remains and bury them suitably.

Both lords having thus departed in wrath, John regrets what he has done,
because 'there is no sure foundation set on blood, no certain life achieved by
others' death.' The appearance of a messenger, whose face betokens ill-
tidings, causes him to inquire anxiously what news he brings, and when John
learns a French force has already landed in England, he wonders why his
mother did not warn him. He is then informed how Elinor and Constance have
both died within three days of each other, — news which makes his head reel;
— still he soon collects himself, and has just found out the Dauphin is leading
the French army, when Faulconbridge appears.

Exclaiming he can bear no further misfortunes, John demands how his

kinsman has prospered, waxing indignant on learning of the defection of his
people, many of whom have been influenced by a recent prediction that he
will be obliged to relinquish his crown before Ascension Day! Hearing
Faulconbridge has brought the prophet with him, John suddenly inquires of
this man what induced him to say this, only to be gravely informed he did so
'foreknowing that the truth will fall out so!' In his wrath John entrusts the
prophet to Hubert's keeping, with orders to hang him on Ascension Day at
noon, and to return to receive further orders as soon as he has placed this
unwelcome prophet in safe custody.

Hubert and the prophet having gone, John asks Faulconbridge whether he
has heard of the landing of the French, of Arthur's death, and of Salisbury's
and Pembroke's defection. In hopes of winning the two latter lords back to
their allegiance, John orders Faulconbridge to follow them, and only after his
departure comments on his mother's sudden death. It is while John is still
alone, that Hubert returns, reporting five moons have been seen, which
phenomena people connect with Arthur's death. Such is the popular panic in
consequence, that its mere description chills John's blood, and makes him
turn upon Hubert, accusing him of being alone guilty of Arthur's death, by
which he had naught to gain. When Hubert retorts John forced him to commit
that crime, the King rejoins, 'it is the curse of kings to be attended by slaves
that take their humours for a warrant to break within the bloody house of life.'
Thus goaded, Hubert produces the royal warrant, which John no sooner
beholds, than he vows murder would never have come to his mind had not so
ready a tool been near at hand! When Hubert protests, John angrily inquires
why he did not do so when the order was given, as a mere sign would have
stopped him, and bids him begone, as one accursed, who has brought down
upon England foreign invasion, the disaffection of the nobles, and a panic
among the people. This accusation determines Hubert no longer to withhold
the information that Arthur still lives, and when he con- cludes with the words
it was not in him 'to be butcher of an innocent child,' John, perceiving the
political advantage he can draw from this confession, promptly apologises to
Hubert, and bids him hasten and tell the news to the peers, whom he invites
to join him in his cabinet.

The next scene is played before the castle in which Arthur is imprisoned, at
the moment when he appears upon the high walls and looks downward, about
to spring into space. Before jumping, he implores the ground to be merciful
and not hurt him, for, if not crippled by the fall, he hopes to enjoy freedom as a
sailor lad. After concluding 'as good to die and go, as die and stay,' Arthur
springs, only to expire a moment later on the stones below, gasping they are
as hard as his uncle's heart, and imploring heaven to take his soul, and
England to keep his bones.

When he has expired, Salisbury and Pembroke appear, discuss joining the
French, and are overtaken by Faulconbridge, who summons them into the
King's presence — summons they disregard, for they never wish to see John
again. Advancing, they suddenly descry Arthur's corpse, over which they
mourn, pointing it out to Faulconbridge with words of tender pity for the
sufferings of the child, and of execration for those who drove him to so
desperate an act. Hard-hearted as Faulconbridge is, he agrees 'it is a damned
and bloody work,' although he cannot imagine how anyone could be guilty of a
child's death. The lords have just registered a solemn oath to avenge Arthur,
when Hu- bert appears in the distance, calling out that the Prince is alive and
the King wants them, words which seem pure mockery to Salisbury, who
harshly bids him begone. As his orders are not immediately obeyed, Salisbury
draws his sword, whereupon Faulconbridge restrains him, while Hubert
protests that nothing, save irespect for a noble an- tagonist, prevents him from
seeking immediate redress for the terms he has used.

The rest now turn upon Hubert, terming him murderer, a charge he defies
them to prove. Before attacking him, they point to Arthur's corpse as a
confirmation of their words, and at the sight of the lifeless Prince, Hlibert
truthfully exclaims he left him in good health an hour ago, and protests he 'will
weep his date of life out for his sweet life's loss.' But this grief seems pure
hypocrisy to Salisbury, who decides to hasten off with his companions to the
Dauphin's camp, where, they inform Hubert and Faulconbridge, the King may
hereafter send for them. The lords having gone, Faulconbridge demands
whether Hubert is in any way to blame for Arthur's death, vowing if he is guilty
of slaying a child, no punishment can be too severe for him. When Hubert
solemnly swears he is not guilty, 'in act, consent, or sin of thought,'
Faulconbridge bids him carry off his little charge, marvelling that England's
hopes can make so light and helpless a burden. Then he hastens back to
John, for 'a thousand businesses are brief in hand, and heaven itself doth
frown upon the land.'

Act V

The fifth act opens in John's palace, just after he has surrendered his crown to
the legate, who returns it to him in the Pope's name, accepting him once more
as vassal of the holy see. As John has submitted to this humiliation so as to
retain possession of the sceptre slipping from his grasp, he implores the
legate soon to use his authority to check the advance of the French. After
admitting he induced the French to attack England, the legate departs,
promising to make them lay down their arms.

When he has gone, John inquires whether this is not Ascension Day,
exclaiming the prophesy has been fulfilled, since he voluntarily laid aside his
crown before noon. It is at this moment Faulconbridge enters, announcing that
all Kent save Dover, has already yielded to the French, who have also
become masters of London, where the nobles are thronging to receive them.
These tidings dismay John, who expected the nobles to return to their
allegiance as soon as it became known that Arthur was alive; but, when he
learns from Faulconbridge that the little Prince was found dead at the foot of
his prison walls, he vehemently exclaims Hubert deceived him!

Seeing John hopeless of maintaining his position, Faulconbridge urges him to

'be great in act,' as he has 'been in thought,' suggesting that he fight fire with
fire, and by his example infuse courage in everybody. When John rejoins that
the legate has promised to make peace with the invader, the Bastard scorns
such an inglorious settlement, and bids John arm, lest he lose the opportune
moment to triumph over a youthful foe. When he is therefore told to prepare
immediately for fight, he goes off with great alacrity.

The next scene is played in the French camp, at St. Edmundsbury, where the
Dauphin orders copies made of the covenant he has just concluded with the
English lords, a covenant which Salisbury promises shall never be broken,
although it grieves him to fight his countrymen. The Dauphin has just
reassured him in regard to England, — whose prosperity he means to further,
— when the legate enters, announcing that John, having concluded peace
with Rome, is no longer to be molested. But, loath to relinquish a purpose
once avowed, the Dauphin refuses to withdraw at the Church's summons, and
claims England as his wife's inheritance, since Arthur is dead.

His proud refusal to return to France without having accomplished anything,

amazes the legate, who has no time to bring forth further arguments. for
trumpets sound and Faulconbridge appears. Demanding whether the legate
has been successful, and learning the Dauphin refuses to withdraw,
Faulconbridge shows great satisfaction, and reports that his master
challenges the French, whom he intends to drive home in disgrace! His
defiant speech angers the Dauphin, who, contemptuously remarking it is easy
to 'out-scold,' refuses the legate's offers to arbitrate, and informs
Faulconbridge his challenge is accepted.

The next scene is played on the battle-field, where, meeting Hubert, John
eagerly inquires how his troops have fared, and is dismayed to learn Fortune
has proved adverse. He is besides, prey to a fever which robs him of strength
at the critical moment, so he abandons the field, sending word to
Faulconbridge he will take refuge in the neighbouring Abbey of Swinstead. As
he is leaving, he learns with delight the Dauphin's supplies have been
wrecked on Goodwin Sands, but even such tidings cannot cure him and he
turns very faint.

In another part of the field, Salisbury, Pembroke and another lord have met,
and comment over the number of friends John has' secured, marvelling in
particular at Faulconbridge's courage, and wondering whether the King has
really left the battle-field. Their conversation is interrupted by a mortally
wounded Frenchman, who warns them they are betrayed, and advises them
to crave John's pardon before it is too late. On learning that the Dauphin, —
who swore friendship with them, — intends to sacrifice them in case he is
victorious, all three lords leave the field, bearing with them the wounded man
who has so kindly befriended them.

In the next scene the Dauphin boasts they have driven the foe from the field,
just as a messenger brings word that the English nobles have deserted, and
that his supplies have been wrecked! Knowing King John is at Swinstead
Abbey, the Dauphin proposes to pursue him thither on the morrow, and retires
while his men mount guard over the camp.

We now behold Swinstead Abbey, where, coming from opposite directions,

Hubert and Faulconbridge meet. In their first surprise they challenge each
other, dropping their defiant attitude only when they discover they are both on
the English side. Making themselves known, they then eagerly inquire for
news; but, it is only after some hesitation that Hubert reveals that John has
probably been poisoned by one of the monks, and is now speechless, warning
Faulconbridge the end is so near he had better provide for his own safety.
Unable to credit such tidings, Faulconbridge inquires further particulars, only
to hear the rebel lords have been pardoned and are now with Prince Henry by
the royal death-bed.

It is in an orchard near this same Abbey that Prince Henry, conversing with
Salisbury and another lord, sadly informs them his father's death is imminent.
A moment later Pembroke joins them, reporting that the King wishes to be
brought out in the open air, as he fancies it will do him good. After giving
orders for his father to be conveyed to this spot. Prince Henry laments the
sudden seizure which has laid him low; and even while Salisbury is vainly
trying to comfort him, bearers bring in the dying monarch. Shortly after
gasping, 'Now my soul hath elbow-room.' John adds that an internal fire
consumes him! Then, in reply to Prince Henry's inquiries, he admits he is
indeed dying from poison, and begs for the relief which no one can afford him,
although his sufferings wring tears from all.

The sudden appearance of Faulconbridge, rouses John enough to remark he

arrives in time to see him die! These tidings dismay Faulconbridge, who
announces the Dauphin is coming, and that, having lost most of his own
forces, he will not be able to defend his King! At these words John sinks back
dead, and Salisbury exclaims: 'My liege! my lord! but now a King, now thus.'

Seeing his father has gone, Prince Henry mourns, while Faulconbridge
swears he will linger on earth only long enough to avenge John, and will then
hasten to wait upon him in heaven as he has done here below. Hearing him
add that England is in inuninent danger, Salisbury informs him that the legate
has just brought offers of peace from the Dauphin, which can be accepted
without shame. Instead of continuing the war, therefore, the Dauphin will
retreat to France, leaving the legate to settle terms with Salisbury,
Faulconbridge and others.

After advising Prince Henry to show his father due respect by attending his
body to Worcester, — where John asked to be buried, and where he can
assume the English crown, — Faulconbridge promises to serve him faithfully,
an oath of fealty in which Salisbury joins. Although Prince Henry can thank
them only by tears, the play closes with Faulconbridge's patriotic assurance
that 'this England never did, nor never shall, lie at the proud feet of a
conqueror,' and that naught will ever make Englishmen afraid as long as
'England to itself do rest but true.'

Synopsis[edit]

A watercolor of Richard II in prison at Pomfret Castle.

J. Coghlan, early nineteenth century

The play spans only the last two years of Richard's life, from 1398 to 1400. The first Act begins with
King Richard sitting majestically on his throne in full state, having been requested to arbitrate a
dispute between Thomas Mowbray and Richard's cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, later Henry IV, who
has accused Mowbray of squandering money given to him by Richard for the king's soldiers and of
murdering Bolingbroke's uncle, the Duke of Gloucester. Bolingbroke's father, John of Gaunt, 1st
Duke of Lancaster, meanwhile, believes it was Richard himself who was responsible for his brother's
murder. After several attempts to calm both men, Richard acquiesces and it is determined that the
matter be resolved in the established method of trial by battle between Bolingbroke and Mowbray,
despite the objections of Gaunt.
The tournament scene is very formal with a long, ceremonial introduction, but as the combatants are
about to fight, Richard interrupts and sentences both to banishment from England. Bolingbroke is
originally sentenced to ten years' banishment, but Richard reduces this to six years upon seeing
John of Gaunt's grieving face, while Mowbray is banished permanently. The king's decision can be
seen as the first mistake in a series leading eventually to his overthrow and death, since it is an error
which highlights many of his character flaws, displaying as it does indecisiveness (in terms of
whether to allow the duel to go ahead), abruptness (Richard waits until the last possible moment to
cancel the duel), and arbitrariness (there is no apparent reason why Bolingbroke should be allowed
to return and Mowbray not). In addition, the decision fails to dispel the suspicions surrounding
Richard's involvement in the death of the Duke of Gloucester – in fact, by handling the situation so
high-handedly and offering no coherent explanation for his reasoning, Richard only manages to
appear more guilty. Mowbray predicts that the king will sooner or later fall at the hands of
Bolingbroke.
John of Gaunt dies and Richard II seizes all of his land and money. This angers the nobility, who
accuse Richard of wasting England's money, of taking Gaunt's money (belonging by rights to his
son, Bolingbroke) to fund war in Ireland, of taxing the commoners, and of fining the nobles for crimes
committed by their ancestors. They then help Bolingbroke to return secretly to England, with a plan
to overthrow Richard II. There remain, however, subjects who continue faithful to the king, among
them Bushy, Bagot, Green and the Duke of Aumerle (son of the Duke of York), cousin of both
Richard and Bolingbroke. When King Richard leaves England to attend to the war in Ireland,
Bolingbroke seizes the opportunity to assemble an army and invades the north coast of England.
Executing both Bushy and Green, he wins over the Duke of York, whom Richard has left in charge of
his government in his absence.
Upon Richard's return, Bolingbroke not only reclaims his lands but lays claim to the very throne.
Crowning himself King Henry IV, he has Richard taken prisoner to the castle of Pomfret. Aumerle
and others plan a rebellion against the new king, but York discovers his son's treachery and reveals
it to Henry, who spares Aumerle as a result of the intercession of the Duchess of York while
executing the other conspirators. After interpreting King Henry's "living fear" as a reference to the
still-living Richard, an ambitious nobleman (Exton) goes to the prison and murders him. King Henry
repudiates the murderer and vows to journey to Jerusalem to cleanse himself of his part in Richard's
death.

Henry V: Plot Summary

From Stories of Shakespeare's English History Plays by Helene Adeline Guerber. New
York: Dodd, Mead and company.

This play is preceded by an eloquent prologue, wherein the poet, despairing of

making his characters live again before our eyes, of enclosing 'the vasty fields of
France' in a mere theatre, or of showing us 'the very casques that did affright the
air at Agincourt,' makes an eloquent appeal to the audience's imagination.
Act I

The first act opens in an antechamber of the royal palace in London, where the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Ely are discussing a bill, pending
for twelve years past, which will deprive the Church of many prerogatives. They
also comment on their new monarch, Canterbury remarking that although Henry
V's youth presaged little good, he is now a model ruler. All he says in praise of
the King's wisdom, is confirmed by the Bishop of Ely, who adds that just as
strawberries grow beneath the nettle, the King's virtues have ripened and
developed under cover of his wildness, ere he inquires how Henry views the bill
they have discussed? Canterbury replies that although the King seemed almost
indifferent, an offer the Church recently made of funds to make war against
France will probably determine him to act in their favour. Still, he adds, that
although pleasantly impressed by this offer, his Majesty would give no
immediate answer, expressing instead a desire to know more about his claims
to the French crown. The arrival of a French ambassador, craving audience, had
interrupted this momentous conversation, and it is this audience the prelates
propose to attend, although they can calculate its import in advance.

We next behold the presence-chamber, where the King enters with his train,
calling for the Archbishop of Canterbury. While this prelate is being summoned,
a courtier inquires whether the ambassador is to be admitted, only to be
informed that matters of weight must first be settled. The entering clergy having
pronounced the benediction, the King addresses Canterbury, asking whether, in
his opinion, the Salic Law debars him from the French crown, solemnly warning
him to weigh well his answer, as his decision may cost many lives. Thus
adjured, the Archbishop explains how the ancient law decreeing that no woman
should succeed in Salic lands, was framed in early Merovingian times, in the
country between the Elbe and the Sala, and hence has no bearing upon the
crown of France, to which Henry inherits a clear title.

When Henry therupon demands whether he may 'with right and conscience'
assert this claim, Canterbury urges him to do so, eloquently quoting the
Scriptures, and invoking the memory of his glorious kinsman, the Black Prince.
Chiming in, the Bishop of Ely reminds the Monarch he is heir to all this courage
and glory, while his relatives exclaim that his brother kings expect him to act,
and that there are men and money enough to make his claim good.

When Canterbury adds that the clergy will volunteer for such a purpose a larger
subsidy than has ever been granted before, Henry gravely reminds all present
that not only 'must they invade France, but defend England, for the Scotch
invariably rise when there is war abroad. When Canterbury eagerly rejoins that
the lords of the marches suffice to repel the borderers, Henry retorts he is not
thinking of raids, but of such wars as have brought terror and ruin before.
Thereupon Canterbury defiantly replies that when Scotland attacked England,
her King fell into their power, paying no heed to the old adage, which
Westmoreland quotes: 'If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.'

A spirited discussion now ensues between Exeter and Canterbury, each of

whom illustrates his meaning by similies, that of the Archbishop proving
particularly felicitous, for he describes a bee-hive as a model of good
government, ere suggesting that the King go to France with one-fourth of the
English forces, leaving the remainder at home to defend the borders and police
his realm. So palatable is this advice to Henry, — who wishes to keep his nobles
too busy abroad to plot at home, — that, after giving orders to admit the
ambassadors, he exclaims his mind is fully made up, and that with God's help
and that of his subjects, France shall be his.

The entering ambassadors now bow low before the English monarch, who
graciously announces he IS ready to receive the Dauphin's message, since it
comes in his name. After a courteous preamble, — having obtained the English
King's leave to speak boldly, — the ambassador briefly states Henry's claims to
certain estates in France are rejected, and that his master, wishing to hear no
more about it, sends him instead 'a tun of treasure.'

Although couched in terms of scathing contempt, Henry V calmly ignores this

rudeness and asks his uncle what the tun contains? On receiving the grim reply
'tennis balls' the English Monarch expresses ironical pleasure that the Dauphin
should deign to jest with him, adding the significant statement, 'when we have
match'd our rackets to these balls, we will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
shall strike his father's crown into the hasard.' Then, he grimly states he is
coming, sword in hand, to assert his claims to France, and warns the Dauphin
he will soon see his tennis balls turned into 'gun-stones,' and his mockery wring
tears from the eyes of countless mothers and widows. After a solemn appeal to
the God of battles to avenge his wrongs, Henry V dismisses the ambassadors
under the usual safe-conduct.

The stranger gone, the King's uncle exclaims 'this was a merry message!' to
which expression of approval Henry grimly rejoins that if they are to make its
sender blush, they must turn their energies towards France, before he leaves
the room in a flourish of trumpets.

Act II
The second act is also preceded by a patriotic prologue, depicting the wild
enthusiasm in England over the coming war, the energetic preparations for the
campaign, the discovery of three conspirators, and the departure of the King to
cross the 'narrow seas' between Southhampton and France.

The curtain rises on a street in London where Corporal Nym and Lieutenant
Bardolph, — who form part of the coming expedition,— meet and discuss the
chances of plunder, and the marriage of their companion, Ancient Pistol, to Nell
Quickly, the hostess, once betrothed to Nym. While they are thus talking, the
newly-made couple join them, Pistol boasting his wife shall cease to keep
lodgers. Thereupon she admits that such occupation has its drawbacks since
gentlemen will brawl, a state of affairs plainly illustrated a moment later, when
Nym and Pistol, who have exchanged hostile glances and words, prepare to
fight. Although Bardolph tries to interfere, the two would-be fighters revile each
other, until, seeing no other way to check them, Bardolph draws his sword,
threatening to kill the first who strikes a blow!

In the midst of this quarrel, Pistol bids Nym leave his wife alone hereafter, and
content himself with courting Doll Tearsheet, just as a boy summons Pistol and
his wife to his master, who is very ill. This news Dame Quickly scarcely credits,
although she goes off with the boy, calling to her husband to follow her soon.
Meanwhile, although Bardolph offiers to reconcile the two disputants, they
renew their quarrel, only to be again checked by their companion who, this time,
succeeds in making peace between them. He has barely done so, when the
hostess returns in a flutter, bidding them come quickly to Sir John Falstaff,
whose alarming condition the three men attribute to chagrin over the royal
displeasure.

The council chamber at Southampton next stands revealed, where some

courtiers wonder how the King dares trust false men whose plots have been
discovered, although they do not yet suspect it. A moment later Henry enters,
with the three conspirators in his train, and is overheard rejoicing there is fair
wind, so they can soon embark to cut a 'passage through the force of France.'
Every word he utters is fulsomely approved by the traitors, until Henry bids his
uncle set free a man imprisoned for insulting him. The traitors now eagerly urge
the King to punish this culprit, using arguments which Henry V combats, urging
that mildness and pardon should be extended for. slight offences, and severity
be reserved only for those of greater weight.

This matter settled, Henry inquires who were the late commissioners to France,
and hearing the traitors claim this honour, hands them papers, which he gravely
bids them read, as they show he knows their worth. Meanwhile, he announces
to the rest that they will embark that - evening. Then, perceiving the trio's
blanched cheeks and distended eyes, he grimly inquires what is the matter with
them? Thereupon all three, convicted of guilt by the very arguments they used,
humbly crave his pardon. After gravely reminding them how they conquered all
inclination to mercy in his heart, Henry adds that since, for base motives, they
conspired with France to plot his death, they shall be arrested. Exeter having
apprehended them, they again beg their master's forgiveness, recognising
however, that they deserve death for betraying their country. Thereupon, Henry,
after solemnly rehearsing their delinquencies, pardons their offences towards
himself, but sentences them to the block for betraying England. Then, the
traitors led away, he bids the rest prepare to sail, praying God, who brought to
light a dangerous plot which might have wrecked their plans, to continue to help
them.

The scene is now transferred to Dame Quickly's Inn, where she is pleading to
accompany her warrior-husband part way to Southampton, a boon he denies,
while urging his companions to keep up their spirits, although Falstaff is dead.
When Bardolph expresses a longing to be with Sir John either in heaven or hell,
the hostess assures him that Falstaff must be in "Arthur's bosom," after which
malapropism she circumstantially describes the edifying end of the fat knight.
Then she receives her husband's shrewd instructions and affectionate farewell,
and, bidding his companions kiss his wife, too. Pistol marches off with them, his
spouse watching them out of sight.

The curtain now rises on the royal palace in France, where King Charles is
attended by the Dauphin and his lords. After stating he has heard the English
are coming, this monarch takes measures for the defence of his realm,
appointing special duties for his son and lords to perform. Although agreeing
that immediate measures of defence are necessary, the Dauphin speaks in such
contemptuous terms of their adversary, that the Constable sees fit to warn him
he is mistaken in his estimate of Henry V, and bids him question the
ambassadors to learn with what dignity they were received, how proudly their
challenge was answered, and how courteously they were dismissed!

Hearing this, the Dauphin reluctantly admits he may be partly mistaken, adding,
however, that he deems it wiser to under-estimate rather than overestimate a
foe. The French King, resuming the initiative, now prudently decides that,
considering their adversary strong, they will 'strongly arm to meet him,'
remembering it behooves them to wipe out the shame of the defeat at Crecy,
where a relative of the present English King won his spurs.

It is at this moment a messenger announces the English ambassadors, whom

the King orders admitted, telling his court 'this chase is hotly followed.' This
expression gives the Dauphin opportunity to exclaim that such being the case,
the moment has come to turn and face their pursuers, thus getting the better of
them! But Exeter is ushered in, and after delivering ceremonious greetings,
haughtily summons the French Monarch to surrender to Henry V France and all
pertaining to its crown, substantiating his master's claim by producing his
pedigree.

To the French King's calm, 'Or else what follows?' the ambassador replies by a
declaration of war, announcing that Henry is already on his way, surrounded by
all the pomp and panoply of war, and warning them that the deplorable
consequences of this quarrel rest upon the heads of French King and Dauphin.
Charles VI now promises an answer on the morrow, while the Dauphin, enraged
by a scornful message addressed to him, defiantly exclaims that he desires
naught so eagerly as to measure strength with England, as he plainly showed
by sending a young and vain monarch playthings! Grimly warning him such
contempt may yet cost dear, the ambassador departs, urging the French
monarch to give him a speedy answer, lest his master come and get it in
person! A night, however, does not seem too long a space of time for the French
King wherein to decide matters of such consequence, so the audience closes
with a blast of trumpets.

Act III

The prologue to the third act is a chorus, describing the embarking of Henry V,
his crossing of the Channel, his landing at Harfleur, the preparations for siege,
and the return of his ambassador offering Princess Katharine's hand with so
insignificant a dowry, that the insulted English fire their siege guns and all goes
down before them!

The rising curtain reveals Harfleur, which Henry is besieging, and where, in a
picturesque speech, he urges his men to return to the attack. Then come
renewed bursts of artillery, during which Bardolph eggs the reluctant Nym on,
while Pistol sings a battle-song, and his boy wishes himself safe in some
London alehouse, for he would willingly exchange all his 'fame for a pot of ale
and safety.' The captain, a Welshman, now appears to drive the men forward,
whereupon they advance, jocosely protesting, and leave the boy alone on the
stage to comment upon the queer masters he is serving, whom he cannot
respect, because they lie and steal and try to teach him to do likewise.

Soon after this boy leaves the scene, the Welshman returns, explaining wordily
that he will not go to the mines, where the Duke of Gloucester is summoning
him, because he knows they are countermined and hence dangerous. While he
and his men hesitate, they are joined by two other captains, an Irishman and a
Scotchman, who grumble because the trumpets have sounded a recall, and
they have been forced to leave the mines ere they could blow up the town! A
disputation on military matters ensues, wherein the nationality of the disputants
is clearly revealed by their different dialects and characteristic points of view, ere
trumpets sound to announce a parley.

This causes the disputants to desert the scene, where, shortly after their
departure. King Henry rides up to Harfleur's gate, to confer with the governor,
who appears on the wall. After plainly stating, in a speech of great power and
dignity, that the town had better surrender to his mercy, Henry sternly adds that
unless it yields, its walls will be battered down, and its people exposed to all the
horror of warfare.

The governor rejoins that, although they confidently expected the Dauphin to
relieve them, all hopes of his arrival having come to an end, they will trust him
and surrender. On hearing this, Henry joyfully bids the gates be opened to
Exeter, who is placed in charge of the town, with orders to fortify it against the
French, while showing mercy to all. Then King Henry announces his intention to
spend one night only in Harfleur, ere he winters with the rest of his forces at
Calais. The curtain falls as the King and his train march into the surrendered
city, amid triumphal blasts of music.

We again behold the French King's palace, where Princess Katharine is

artlessly questioning in French one of her waiting-women, who has visited
England. Alice, having modestly admitted she has a slight knowledge of English,
the Princess bids her give her lesson, naming hand, fingers, nails, arm, elbow,
neck, and chin. She repeats these words more or less correctly, in halting
accents, innocently pluming herself from time to time on the facility with which
she is acquiring a difficult foreign language, whose sounds seem strange and
uncouth to her ear. The whole scene, — one of ineffable grace and humour, —
forms one of the most delightful bits of fooling in the play, and closes with the
Princess' departure for dinner, priding herself upon soon be- ing an excellent
English scholar.

We next behold the French King in the same apartment, exclaiming the English
have already passed the Somme! His Constable and the Dauphin thereupon
urge immediate battle, the Duke of Burgundy averring the English are Norman
bastards, whom he longs to face. Their invasion of France seems a foolhardy
performance to the Constable, whose strictures upon English climate and
people are equally severe. The courtier's remarks, however, encourage Charles
VI, who bids a herald carry his challenge to the foe, and orders all present to
hasten to the battle-field and acquit themselves there to such good purpose, that
Henry V will be brought captive to Rouen! These orders are enthusiastically
welcomed, the Constable openly regretting the English army is so small and
weak that on perceiving the French it will surely melt away. Repeating his orders
to the herald, the King bids him ask what ransom the King of England offers?
Then he commands his son to remain in Rouen with him, although the Prince
longs to take part in the fray, and father and son depart, the former charging the
Constable soon to send word that England has fallen!

The scene is now in the English camp, on the banks of the Somme, where the
Welshman and his subordinate praise the Duke of Exeter, who is guarding the
bridge, one of his helpers being their gallant companion Pistol. The subordinate
is just expressing a desire to meet this remarkable man, when Pistol comes to
beg the Welshman to intercede with the Duke for Bardolph's pardon, the latter
having been sentenced to the gallows for stealing! Owing to the pedantic,
disputatious temper of his interlocutor, Pistol is interrupted time and again with
corrections, puns and comments, which so irritate him that he becomes violently
angry when his request is refused. When he has gone, the Welshman and his
subordinate discuss him, until the roll of a drum heralds the appearance of King
Henry. After greeting the Welshman, he inquires what news has come from the
bridge, and learns how the Duke of Exeter, notwithstanding repeated attacks
from the French, still holds his own and has lost but one man. This individual,
Bardolph, is to be hanged for robbing a church, a punishment which Henry
wishes might overtake all similar offenders, ere he repeats his orders to respect
property and treat the natives kindly, for 'when lenity and cruelty play for a
kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soon- est winner.'

A moment later, trumpets announce the arrival of the French herald, who
defiantly delivers his master's haughty message. Listening calmly, Henry
inquires the herald's name, ere he bids him carry back answer that he would fain
avoid an encounter at present, his men being so enfeebled by illness that one
cannot, as usual, equal three Frenchmen! He therefore begs for free passage,
warning the herald, however, that if hindered In his retreat to Calais, he intends
to cut his way through, dyeing the French soil with French blood. The
Frenchmen having withdrawn, the English King turns to his brother, averring
they are now in God's hands, and must camp beyond the river.

The scene next changes to the French camp near Agincourt, where the
Constable is priding himself on his armour, and the Duke of Orleans on his
horse. The Dauphin, however, seems to think his steed and weapons surpass
those of his companions, for after some more horse talk and boasts about what
they intend to do on the morrow, he departs. While the Dauphin Is donning his
armour, his companions make fun of him, one of them volun- teering to eat all
the men he kills, for he feels no faith in the Prince's valour.
The arrival of an excited messenger, announcing that the English are close to
their tents, breaks up this colloquy, and all exclaim the King of England cannot
long for day as they do, as there is no doubt of his coming defeat. So sure do
they feel of victory, that one man openly wonders why the English do not run
away, only to be informed that they belong to a mastiff breed which does not
know how to let go ! So the nobles separate, asserting each Frenchman will
capture at least a hundred Englishmen before sunset, and betting on the results
of the day.

Act IV

The prologue of the fourth act, again a chorus, depicts how, after a night of
anxious suspense on the part of the English, — who pluck comfort from Henry's
looks, and of rash security on the part of the French, the clatter of preparation is
heard, before a terrible battle is fought at Agincourt.

The rising curtain reveals the English camp, where King Henry privately
acknowledges to his brothers they are in imminent peril, adding that on that very
account their courage must rise to the grim occasion. After some reassuring,
philosophic reflections on the advantage of early rising, he next addresses an
aged knight, wishing a softer pillow awaited him, a wish his interlocutor is too
brave to share. To show appreciation for the courage and loyalty the old knight
displays, Henry begs the loan of his cloak, ere he bids his brothers summon a
council in the royal tent.

Meanwhile, — disguised by the cloak, — Henry proposes to commune a while

alone, but is soon challenged by Pistol, who, not recognising his monarch,
converses in familiar strain with him, giving him a free and easy opinion of his
superiors, ere he takes himself away. A moment later, the Welshman he has
described, appears with his henchman, with whom he indulges in a pretentious
discourse, which diverts Henry. They are soon joined by three other soldiers,
who, thinking they will not live to see another dawn, dread the approach of day.
On perceiving Henry, — who represents himself a follower of the aged knight, —
they ask his opinion of their predicament, whereupon he concedes that although
their King is but a man, they had better obey him without fear. He then cunningly
induces these men to give their opinion of their ruler, and swears he could die
nowhere so contentedly as in the King's company, 'his cause being just and his
quarrel honourable.' Although not so sure of this, the three soldiers deem
themselves bound to obey their King right or wrong, leaving him responsible for
everything, including their souls! After arguing with them for awhile to
demonstrate that every man must answer for his own soul, Henry remarks he
has overheard the English King say he would not be ransomed, a statement the
men fancy devised mainly to make them fight the more bravely. As a dispute
arises on this subject between Henry and William, one of the soldiers, they
finally exchange gloves, each promising to wear his addvrsary's token in his
cap, and give the other satisfaction after the battle, the soldier truculently adding
ere he leaves the stage, that he proposes to strike the bearer of his gage
wherever he meets him ! All having gone, Henry muses in a soliloquy of
wonderful force and beauty, upon the responsibility royalty entails, and which all
its pomps and pleasures only thinly disguise. His musings are interrupted by the
return of the aged knight, reporting his lords are vainly seeking him. Replying
that he will meet them presently in his tent, Henry dismisses this messenger,
and, left alone, fervently prays his and his father's sins may not be remembered
— seeing he has already done penance for them, but that his soldiers' hearts
may be so steeled, that they will prove victorious in spite of the odds against
them. Again summoned, — by a brother this time, — the King goes off,
earnestly exclaiming, 'the day, my friends and all things stay for me.'

At sunrise, we behold the French camp all astir, the Dauphin and Duke of
Orleans calling for their steeds in their frantic haste to begin the fray. When the
Constable joins them, the Dauphin rashly proposes to excite their horses by
gashing their hides so they can sprinkle the foe with their blood! A messenger,
— announcing that the English are drawn up In battle array, — hastens the
departure of the Dauphin, Duke of Orleans, and Constable, which latter
contemptuously mentions the starved array of men Henry has to oppose to
France's brilliant host, vowing that if blown upon, 'the vapour of our valour will
o'erturn them.' Before his boastful speech ends, another knight joins them, also
deriding the meanness of the foe, whose very steeds stand with dropped heads
and dejected mien, while bands of crows hover over them to pick their bones!
Then the Dauphin suggests it would be chivalrous to feed the enemy so as to
make them more worthy of their steel, ere all set out, exulting at the prospect of
the easy triumph awaiting them.

Meantime, In the English camp, the lords are coming to the conclusion that,
although only one against five, they must make a brave stand. So little do they
expect to survive the day, however, that they take solemn leave of one another,
exchanging good wishes. Salisbury has just left the group when King Henry
appears, just in time to overhear Westmoreland fervently wish they had ten
thousand more Englishmen at hand. This wish is not echoed by the King, who
boldly avers that if they are to die, England will lose men enough, but that
should they triumph, 'the fewer men, the greater share of honour!' Instead of
calling for additional forces, therefore, he is in favour of proclaiming that all
those who are afraid of the coming fight, can depart with passport and pay,
proudly vowing we would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship
to die with us.' Then he enthusiastically adds future ages will speak of this
encounter, proclaiming that 'he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my
brother.' This promise so thrills his hearers, that when Salisbury announces the
French are about to charge, all express readiness to enter the fight, and
Westmoreland openly wishes he and the King were alone against the foe, so
that they could reap the glory!

They are about to leave the scene when the French herald reappears,
announcing he has come to give Henry a last chance to withdraw from a
quarrel, in which he and all his men must perish, and to offer ransom. On
hearing that the Constable has sent this message, Henry haughtily rejoins, 'Bid
them achieve me and then sell my bones' adding the solemn warning that it is
not wise to attempt to sell a lion's skin ere the beast is slain! Then, in a stirring
speech which reveals high courage, he adds that many of his men. Instead of
rotting on this plain, will yet rest beneath honoured brasses in England, and that
although they present a sorry appearance compared with the French host, they
are none the less ready to measure strength with their gay foes. Bearing this
haughty message, the herald departs, solemnly warning Henry 'thou never shalt
hear herald any more' only to receive the biting retort that he will soon be back
for ransom! The English now being ready to mount, the Duke of York craves
permission to lead the van, a request Henry grants, ere he departs exclaiming,
'and how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!'

We next behold the field of battle, where Pistol has seized a Frenchman, whose
name and quality he is anxious to discover so as to calculate the amount of
ransom he can claim. Thanks to his boy, who acts as his Interpreter, the matter
is settled after a comical scene, and Pistol and his captive withdraw, while the
boy muses on the death by hanging of Bardolph and Nym, and regrets that he
must remain with the baggage.

In another part of the battle-field, the Constable, Duke of Orleans and Dauphin
congregate, and from their exclamations and consternation we conclude all is
lost, and that the King whom they expected to offer ransom is now their victor! In
vain hope of turning the tide, all rush back Into the fray, for in spite of
overwhelming losses, they still greatly outnumber their foes.

Further off, on the same battle-field, Henry is congratulating those around him
upon what has already been done, though the French still hold the field, and
Inquiring how his uncle York has fared in the fight? In reply, Exeter describes
this hero's prowess, ere he fell beneath many wounds, relating how he and
Suffolk died side by side, after exchanging touching congratulations and
farewells. This news, which saddens all present, deeply affects the King, who,
hearing a trumpet blast, exclaims the French are returning and that the
prisoners must be slain, so all will be at liberty to fight!
In another part of the field we hear the Welshman grumbling because the
French have attacked the luggage and slain some boys. Then he displays his
learning and accent by comparing 'Alex- ander the Pig' and Henry of Monmouth,
the latter's principal advantage consisting, from his point of view, in having been
born in Wales!

While the Welshman's men are still approvingly discussing their ruler and his
dramatic dismissal of Falstaff, Henry appears, exclaiming this is the first time he
has been angry since landing in France, and bidding a herald summon the
Frenchmen on the hill to fight or leave. A moment later the French herald
reappears, humbly answering Henry's taunt by a request to bury his dead.
Although Henry still professes not to know who has won, the herald assures him
he is victor, whereupon Henry modestly attributes this triumph to God's agency,
adding that the battle is to be known as Aglncourt, from the castle within sight of
the field. This decision pleases the Welshman, who reminds the King they are
countrymen, ere he goes to ascertain how many Englishmen have been slain.
The King now summons Williams, who is standing near by, and inquires why he
wears a glove in his cap like a tournament favour? The man rejoins it is the
gage of a soldier whom he has pledged himself to strike, and with whom he is to
fight. This being according to military code, the Welshman praises William, ere
Henry bids him go in quest of his captain. While the soldier is executing this
order, Henry delivers to the Welshman, Williams' glove, bidding him wear it in
his cap, claiming to have taken it from Alengon in the fray, and that anyone who
challenges him for wearing it is a friend of that traitor! Pleased with such a
charge, the Welshman departs, but has barely gone, when Henry bids some
noblemen follow him, hinting that the glove he wears may earn him a box on the
ear which he will resent, but adding that he wishes no harm to result from this
encounter since it is merely a jest.

A few moments later, Williams having gone to Henry's tent to summon the
captain, suddenly confronts the Welshman wearing his glove. Quick as a flash
the soldier redeems his promise by striking his antagonist, who not only resents
the blow but dubs him traitor! The quarrel such an accusation provokes,
summons first the Dukes, and then the King, who, after gravely listening to both
sides, demands the soldier's glove, and producing his own, proves that they
form a pair. When he gravely states how this soldier offered to strike him, the
Welshman clamours the man deserves death, but the culprit himself pleads he
is not to blame for showing disrespect since his King was in disguise, cleverly
adding, that 'All offences, my lord, come from the heart: never came any from
mine that might offend your majesty.' His defence is graciously accepted by
Henry, who bids Exeter return him the glove filled with gold, and begs the
Welshman to forgive him, a pardon he grants, generously offering Williams as
indemnification for the blow a shilling, an immense sum for so thrifty a soul.

The entrance of the English herald, bringing the tak of slaughtered Frenchmen
and of prisoners taken, now rivets the King's attention. After reading this list,
Henry ascertains that besides fifteen hundred noble prisoners, the French have
lost ten thousand men, including some of high degree. When he eagerly
inquires how the English stand, he learns with delight, that aside from York and
Suffolk, only twenty-five men have been slain, a disproportion between the
losses on both sides which calls forth fervent and renewed thanksgiving on his
part. Then he announces that they will betake themselves to the neighbouring
village, to sing Te Deum in the church there, humbly acknowledging that God
fought for him. Afterwards he proposes to hasten back to Calais, going from
thence to England, 'where ne'er from France arrived more happy men!'

Act V

The fifth act also begins with a chorus, relating how the king, after returning to
Calais, crossed the seas, was rapturously welcomed home and modestly gave
thanks in Westminster Abbey. Then how peace was settled by the Emperor's
intermission, ere Henry returned to France.

The rising curtain reveals the English camp in France, where the Welshman,
taunted by his captain for wearing the traditional leek in his cap, explains he
does so merely to defy Pistol, whose appearance on the scene is the signal for
the renewal of a former quarrel. After receiving two blows from his truculent
Welsh adversary, Pistol becomes so humble, that he reluctantly eats the leek at
this companion's bidding, although when the Welshman has gone he mutters he
will be revenged, until his captain reproves him for insolence and cowardice.
The captain gone, Pistol concludes fortune Is very unkind, for he has just heard
his wife Is dead, news which determines him to hasten back to England, and
make his living there by stealing.

The next scene is played in the French palace at Troyes, where the French and
English monarchs meet. After greeting Charles VI, Queen Isabella, Princess
Katharine, and the nobles with all due ceremony. King Henry receives a kindly
welcome from Isabella, who hopes soon to see his enmity turn Into love, — a
wish he cordially reciprocates. The great nobles having paid their respects.
Burgundy proclaims himself equally attached to both monarchs, between whom
he has been trying to establish peace, and adds there is no reason why this
peace should not prove lasting and prosperity be restored to France whose
present state is pitiable. In reply, King Henry declares all readiness to make
peace, provided his demands are granted, and appoints his uncle, brothers and
two nobles to discuss terms with the King of France, granting them full power to
ratify, augment, or alter the conditions. As the King of France leaves the hall
with these commissioners, the Queen decides to follow them to prevent friction,
but consents to leave her daughter Katharine In the company of Henry, who
gallantly states 'she is our capital demand!' Left alone with the King and her
hand-maiden Alice, the Princess stammers in reply to Henry's complimentary
address, 'I cannot speak your England.' Henry, who cannot speak French, but
nevertheless hopes to win her as bride, vows he will be glad if she can love him;
but, when he eagerly presses her to say whether she likes him, her innocent
query in regard to the meaning of the word 'like,' wrings from him the assurance
'an angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel!' a compliment she credits
only when Alice assures her she has undoubtedly understood it aright.

Finding his suit, — carried on in English, — does not progress as fast as he

would like, Henry, who has frankly confessed he is no courtier, makes a
desperate and grotesque attempt to carry it on in French, a language the
princess politely assures him he speaks far better than she does English! But
when Katharine ventures to answer some of his protestations by stating it
impossible to love 'de enemy of France,' Henry ardently assures her that far
from being France's enemy, he loves the country too dearly to part with its
smallest village, adding laboriously that 'when France is mine and I am yours,
then yours is France and you are mine.' Then, as this reasoning does not seem
sufficiently convincing, he adds a blunt, straightforward declaration of love,
which wins from Katharine a maidenly 'dat is as it sall please de roi mon pere,' a
response which proves so satisfactory that Henry vehemently assures her it
shall please him, ere he kisses first her hands and then her lips, explaining
when she demurs under plea that it is not usual in France, that 'nice customs
curtsy to great Kings!' This whole courting scene, In broken English, is one of
the prettiest pieces of graceful comedy the poet has ever penned, and as such
is deservedly popular.

It ends with the return of the French King and his train, the Duke of Burgundy, —
who has presided over the peace negotiations, — playfully inquiring how Henry
has meanwhile sped in his wooing? After some exchange of witty repartee with
the royal suitor, the Duke announces the King of France has subscribed to all
England's demands. This settled, Henry joyfully asks for Katharine's hand, which
is granted him, it being stipulated that her children and his shall reign over
France and England after the death of the present French ruler. To seal this
treaty, Henry kisses his bride in the presence of both courts, while Isabella calls
down Heaven's blessing upon them, as well as upon both countries, and all
present cry Amen! The curtain falls only after Henry has announced he will
receive the oaths of the French nobles on the morrow, pledging his own word to
Katharine, and solemnly yet joyfully adding 'and may our oaths well kept and
prosperous be!'

The epilogue to this play, put in the mouth of the chorus, states how from this
alliance sprang Henry VI, who, at his father's untimely death, became King of
France and England at nine months of age, and how during his reign all the
English conquests in France were lost. _________